


through the summertime, winter, spring, and fall

by zipplekink



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, Football!Liam, High School AU, Liam is 20, M/M, Smut, Summer, Underage Drinking, artist!zayn, bottom!Zayn, the whole nine, zayn is 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 77,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zipplekink/pseuds/zipplekink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They change with the seasons, burning bright during the summer and biting cold during the winter, but that feeling of being <i>in love</i> Zayn found in the summer clings to him through it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was given a prompt for older Liam and younger Zayn so this is what I have. (Shout out to you for being so patient because this took me forever.) I've been putting snippets of this on tumblr and I was going to post it as one whole, but I'm posting it in parts so I can finally just post some of it. 
> 
> Title from the song Real Love by Mary J. Blige.

**May**

Zayn bobs his head along to the music, feeling a bit awkward. He doesn’t dance, and he has been to parties before but he is not sure if they compare to this one. Those were just a handful of people, usually in Tom’s basement with cheap beers that Danny convinced his brother to buy for them. There are a lot of people here, many of them who have returned home from college for the summer. Including Doniya, who had insisted Zayn come to this party for some quality sibling bonding time.

It would be that, if Doniya were anywhere around him. She disappeared a while ago, right after they arrived. So Zayn found some people his age from school and awkwardly settled in with them, even though they’re not people he usually talks to that much. People who, after they graduate in a month’s time, he probably won’t ever speak to again.

Harry is on his way though, something about being fashionably late, but Zayn thinks it has more to do with the fact that Niall Horan is one of those kids who has come home from college and he doesn’t want to appear eager. (Or something.)

Zayn would be a hypocrite, though, if he teased Harry about it, because his heart definitely picked up the pace when his eyes found those familiar brown eyes. His cheeks are a bit thinner than he remembers, and a sandy beard that is definitely new but fuck, it makes him look even hotter. Three years ago, Zayn would have said that was impossible. The curly hair is replaced with shaved sides and a slicked up quiff, and the white Henley shows off the muscle he has developed over the years.

 _Liam Payne._ To say Zayn had a crush on him back when he was still in school here was a bit of an understatement. It’s embarrassing to think about, how he would make some excuse to bother Doniya when she had her friends over just to see him, or would drag Harry to his football games so he could stare without being obvious.

It has been three years, and Zayn still feels the butterflies in his stomach and the inability to keep his eyes from flitting back to the corner of the room where Liam is, standing around other guys he somewhat recognizes from high school. One of them is definitely Niall, who Zayn couldn’t ever forget because he frequents home more often than anyone else because of Harry, he thinks, and his laugh is a bit unforgettable.

“Zayner,” Harry greets, shoving against him. He snags Zayn’s beer, face contorting in disgust when he takes a sip. “How long have you had this? It’s warm, dude.”

Zayn shrugs. He’s not much of a drinker, preferring the thick taste of smoke instead if he’s in search of an altered state of consciousness, but he didn’t want to stand with a coke, that would make him feel even more awkward, like he doesn’t belong. Which so far, he’s not quite sure he does.

Harry shakes his head disapprovingly, a fond smile on his lips before he gets himself his own beer, handing another to Zayn even though Zayn’s old one is practically full. “Chug it, because I’m dragging you over to Niall with me, and your boy is with him.”

Zayn gulps, shaking his head quickly. “I’m good here,” he says thickly. There’s no point in denying that’s not his boy, because Harry was there at the prime of his crushing. But he was young back then -

Harry doesn’t listen, grabbing his wrist to tug him towards the other side of the room despite his protests.

“Horan,” Harry greets, a smug grin on his face as he settles beside the boy with blond hair peeking out of sides of the black snapback snugged to his head.

“Haz,” Niall says, surprise coating his voice. “Whaddya doin’ here?”

Zayn can’t help but look at Liam, who is watching the three of them from a few feet away. He’s laughing at something another boy is saying and when his eyes meet Zayn, Zayn rips his eyes back to Harry.

“Missed me, eh?” He catches Niall saying, fingers reaching for Harry’s hip. Harry denies it with ease and Zayn snorts quietly to himself. Harry doesn’t shut up about him, how much he does in fact miss Niall.

“Zayn,” Harry introduces, grabbing Zayn’s arm again. He gives him a pointed look as if to say _be more social_ or _shut up_ about anything that could be incriminating. Zayn’s not sure which. “Niall.”

“Heard a lot about ya,” Niall says, shaking Zayn’s hand. “The team,” he points to the guys around them. He thinks he means the team from when they played in high school. “Only one that matters is Liam, though.” Zayn agrees.

Liam comes up to them then like he had been waiting for his name to be mentioned. His full lips, stretching high into his cheeks, are too familiar to Zayn, in a non-familiar way. He can’t count how many times he has caught himself thinking about how they would look against his skin.

He swears at himself, telling himself to get it together and chugging some of his beer like Harry had told him to.

“S’not true,” Liam disagrees, holding his hand out to Harry. He is so close to Zayn that he can smell the cologne lingering on his clothes, and he can see just how much of a dent his muscles make in the fabric of his shirt. He drops his eyes to his worn converses, and tries to control his breathing. “You’re Harry, then?”

“Heard about me?” Harry teases.

“And you are?”

Zayn looks up from his toes, a blush rising up to his temples when he finds those brown eyes on him. There’s a soft smile on Liam’s face, and Zayn tries not watch the flick of tongue that slides against his lips as he waits for Zayn’s response.

“Oh um, Zayn,” he says, taking Liam’s hand in his even though his own hands are shaking. Liam’s are warm, and surprisingly soft.

“Zayn,” Liam repeats, brows scrunching. “You look familiar, are you from around here?”

Zayn nods, gulping. “I um, grew up here. So yeah.”

Liam tilts his head, not taking his eyes from Zayn’s face and he feels like he is on fire. He always knew Liam didn’t know he existed, accepted that, but having him stare at him from a foot away is a bit overwhelming.

“Oh,” Liam says suddenly, eyes crinkling as he smiles. “You’re Donny’s little brother, aren’t you?”

Zayn nods. He usually hates when people refer to him as that. He loves his sister – he does, but that’s not what he wants to be known by. (He’s not really a fan of being known at all, really, but when your sister and your best mate are as social as they are, well, he can’t really avoid it.) And, it’s Liam Payne and he really could care less at the moment.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says genuinely. “You look a lot different.”

“I’m older,” Zayn jokes nervously. This is why he isn’t social, he’s embarrassing. “Eighteen.”

He is going to _run away_ and hide in a hole. Why did he have to add his age? Liam laughs, and he is going to book his flight _now_.

“That’s good,” Liam says, a teasing look on his face that Zayn doesn’t understand so he finishes the contents of his bottle and smiles sheepishly back instead of responding.

Someone takes Liam’s attention and he’s thankful because he wants to hide his face in Harry’s back and use him as a human shield. Harry is a shit savior though, because he’s looking at Niall like they are by themselves, completely unaware of the _SOS_ look his best friend is giving him, so Zayn goes back to staring at his feet and feeling awkward.

When he looks up Liam’s eyes are on him again. The corner of his lips are tugging upwards, and Zayn can’t tell if he’s not listening to the blond guy talking to him and choosing to look at him instead, or if he is listening to the blond guy talk shit about Zayn, so he turns around in search for another beer.

“Zayn,” he hears, as he digs into the refrigerator to grab a cold beer. The kitchen is stuffed with people and it’s a moment before he finds the only one who actually knows his name – Liam.

“Oh um, Liam,” Zayn says, standing up straight.

Liam grins, grabbing the top of the bottle before placing it back into the fridge. His chest is a hair away from Zayn’s owns, and he feels trapped between the fridge door and Liam. But in like a, you know, good way.

“Eighteen may be legal, but not for drinking,” Liam says easily, no malice in his words. He tickles Zayn’s side, urging him out of the way of the door before whispering, “C’mon, I got something else.”

That’s how, about ten minutes later, he finds himself pressed thigh to thigh with Liam on a raggedy couch in the basement of the house. Harry’s sat on the other side of him, Niall sat on the top of the couch behind him and the room filled with thick smoke.

Doniya is there too, sat across from them on a stool, and she is laughing at something some guy Zayn doesn’t know is saying. He has fingers grazing against her jaw, through her hair, and he feels that brotherly protective feeling he gets sometimes rattle through him. But if he embarrasses Doniya, Doniya would definitely shoot back with something worse and Liam is _right there._

Which is making it difficult for Zayn to form coherent thoughts, let alone come up with something to embarrass Doniya if he wanted to.

Liam’s laugh stands out more than the loud talking around them. His eyes squeezed shut and he’s falling back into the couch like the laughter is too much to contain. Zayn has no clue what he is laughing about but he laughs too. He can’t help it the way the laugh rumbles in his chest from just watching the older man. It’s contagious.

“Payno,” someone says, indicating a thinly wrapped blunt pressed in between his two fingers. Liam shakes his head, wiping at his eyes.

“Don’t smoke,” he explains to the guy, the laughter fading from his voice, a smile still present on his face.

The guy offers it to Zayn, who shakes his head as well, and Harry takes it without thinking twice. Zayn would claim it’s because he can feel the burn of his sister’s eyes on him, who disapproves of him smoking – even cigarettes, but that would be a lie.

Liam doesn’t look dismayed or offended, like he had expected since Zayn is assuming that is why Liam invited him down here in the first place.

“Need my lungs for football,” Liam says to him, leaning towards him like he only wants Zayn to hear. There’s a playful grin on his lips and his cheeks are red and a bit wet from laughing. Literal sunshine, Zayn thinks. If he had to define what joy looked like, he would say Liam Payne.

“Need my lungs to live,” Zayn retorts. He is kind of tipsy, to be honest, like Liam is enhancing the effects of the two beers he had. He has always been a light weight, and he wants a third just to get rid of this tension in his spine, but being anywhere than right here doesn’t feel like a good idea.

Liam laughs again, sliding the palm of his hand to the inside of Zayn’s knee and Zayn bites hard onto his lip so he doesn’t gasp out loud.

“Fair enough.”

Zayn flushes when he realizes his eyes are focused too long on the full of Liam’s lips, and there’s an apology on his tongue because they are relatively close, close enough that he can smell the lotion that makes his skin look so soft. Liam’s lips push into a smile though, and Zayn hopes he hasn’t noticed.

“You’re ‘bout to graduate then, yeah?” Liam starts suddenly and it takes a moment to focus on his words enough to respond. He’s looking at Zayn intently, still smiling. Zayn wonders how long it will take him to overdose on it.

“Oh um, yeah. In June.”

“S’cool. Are you excited?”

Zayn shrugs. He’s not really, because he still hasn’t decided between two schools and he keeps avoiding doing that because he is stressed about it (instead of doing it and not being stressed about it) but he doesn’t say as much.

“I wasn’t either,” Liam admits. “Just for football, y’know?”

Zayn nods. He remembers, Captain Liam. _All-American Liam._ He had been a freshman during Liam’s senior year, his prime year, when that was all the school could talk about. All the newspapers in their small town, Bradford, published an article at least once a week in regards to Liam their spring semester. His stats, his scholarships, debating which division one college he was going to choose to play for. Even after he graduated he was still circulating the stories, because he had chosen a division two and it was a _scandal_ -

“You were good,” he says, though he knows that is quite the understatement.

“Yeah,” Liam admits, but it’s not cocky. “Have you ever been to one of my games?”

Zayn chews his lip and nods. He had been to many the year before high school and his freshmen year. Every single one of the home games, actually and a few of the away games that were close enough to travel to. “Just in high school.”

“Too bad I didn’t know you back then,” Liam grins, a finger chasing out to press under Zayn’s chin. It’s only there for a brief second, and Liam doesn’t elaborate on what he means but Zayn feels as if the smoke in the room is clogging his lungs.

 “Well you do now,” Zayn says quietly.

Liam’s eyes shine and lips part, but the _“Payno, get your ass over here_ ” doesn’t come from him, but a petite woman Zayn doesn’t recognize from across the room. Liam chuckles, excusing himself politely before pulling himself out of the tight space between him and the arm of the couch.

Zayn falls against the back of the couch, trying to tune into the conversation Harry’s having with one of the football guys, Niall’s fingers petting through his longer hair. Doniya’s perfume fills his nostrils, and he glares at the amused grin on her face.

“C’mon baby bro,” she says kindly, fingers rustling through his hair. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

 

Zayn sees Liam again after school a few days later. He’s walking into the building with the football coach, his old football jersey hugging his frame, a blocky 23 pressed to his chest.

Zayn’s leaning against the wall, waiting for Harry. He had been irritated because he’s tired and wants to be home, and then Harry had to get detention today, but that irritation is forgotten the moment  he spots Liam jogging up to him, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey,” he says, fingers reaching out and brushing against his hip. There’s no reason for the small touch, nothing to read into, but Zayn thinks he might die anyway. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

“Oh yeah?” Zayn responds coolly, dragging his fingers through his hair. He had spent a good part of his morning doing it and he’s glad it was worth it. Even if it’s just a neat quiff, it took a lot of hair gel to get it that way.

“Yeah,” Liam breathes out a chuckle. “I wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate for me to ask your sister for your phone number, you know?”

“No,” Zayn answers. His heart is pushing up his chest and trying to squeeze its way out of his throat -“You must not have a good reason to want my phone number if you can’t ask my sister.”

Liam’s teeth tug at his lower lip. “I think it’s a good reason,” he starts. He cocks his head to the side. “I hope you think it’s a good reason too.”

Something tightens in Zayn’s abdomen and he swallows. Is _Liam Payne_ flirting with him? Or is exhaustion getting the best of him? “I guess you’d have to tell me the reason then, before I consider giving you my number?”

“Come to the bonfire Saturday,” Liam says. “With me.”

Zayn stares at him, letting his words sink in. _With me._ He could have left that part out, unless it meant with him, with him. (Or not? Zayn doesn’t know. His brain is churning into a pile of mush as he tries to process this all.)

“You’re right,” he replies finally, hoping his voice only sounds choked to him and not Liam. “My sister might not be a fan of that.”

“But would you?”

Zayn nods calmly. He is actually freaking out inside, heart hammering in his chest, excitement rocketing through him. The side effects of being around Liam Payne, he assumes. “Sounds alright.”

“Yeah? Good enough reason for you to give me your phone number?”

“Not sure why you’d want it,” Zayn admits quietly. A bad reputation doesn’t precede Liam, but a popular one does, and Zayn is quite sure Liam is just messing with him. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

Liam reaches out, a thumb pressing under his chin to tilt his head up. “I’ll show you.”

His face burns like it is on fire again, skin sizzling where it connects to the other man’s and Liam chuckles like he knows. Zayn takes his phone, shaky fingers tapping in his number before he hands it back. Liam looks pleased, reaching out to touch his chin again before he runs off back towards his coach with a _see you Saturday_.

Zayn sees him once more before then, though. At his house, of all places. He’s sat on Doniya’s bed, a photo album laid out on his lap when Zayn walks by, freezing the moment he’s past the door. He’s not sure if he should turn back and say hello, or leave Doniya and her friends alone. They may be close but he’s still her annoying little brother, and he doesn’t want her to say that in front of them. In front of Liam.

He decides to keep walking, because he’s got his ridiculously tight pink polo on because he had pushed off doing his laundry and he will look like a pink blob with the way because his skin is starting to match the color.

When he gets to his room he sees a message from Liam, just a simple blush emoticon and he flops on his bed, hiding his face in his pillow.

 

The sun is still up, just poking out of the horizon, filling the sky with pinks and oranges. The fire adds a mix of red and golds, licking up into the air, the thin smoke spiraling further. The sand is still warm, though the air is starting to cool, and Zayn digs his feet in it until his toes disappear.

“You came.”

Zayn looks up from watching his toes, his face instantly heating up. Liam’s head is tilted, a soft smile on his lips as he adjusts the snapback on his head. He’s not sure how he can look so much like a model in just gray joggers and a white V-neck, but he does.

“Yeah,” Zayn responds, gnawing at his lower lip.

“Come on then,” Liam says, nudging his head towards where there’s a gathering of people by the fire. There is not as many as there were at the party, and Zayn recognizes mostly everyone this time. He nods, following after Liam, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the man.

Liam, however, slides a gentle hand along the small of his back as he introduces Zayn to the group. He gets a few names thrown at him, repeating them so he’ll remember. Liam’s touch is gone like it hadn’t been there, but he stays close to his side.

Doniya arrives not soon after, with Danielle and Jade in tow. Jade tickles her fingers through Zayn’s hair, a teasing smile on her lips like she’s his oldest sister. The three of them, along with a fourth, Sophia, had been friends with Doniya long enough that it kind of feels like it. They are close to each other, like Zayn and Harry.

“What are you doing here?” Doniya says with the same teasing in her voice.

He looks at her warily, trying to read her expression. “I um, was invited. Is that okay?”

Her brows push together and she knocks her shoulder against his. “Of course. Just don’t let these fools convince you to do anything reckless.”

Zayn grins, lopsided. “I won’t,” he promises.

The air is cold by the time the sky darkens, the beach filled with more people than when he had arrived. They’re louder now, fueled by alcohol and _summer_. It fills Zayn with the same excitement too, even though his summer hasn’t quite started yet.

They’re sat by the fire, sinking into the sand. Liam’s beside him, having only left his side for a small period of time to put on the plaid shirt he’s now wearing. He is being polite, Zayn reminds himself, nothing more. He invited him, he can’t just ditch him.

(Or he could, actually, but the fact that he doesn’t makes Zayn’s chest feel like it’s expanding.)

“It was spectacular,” Niall boasts. He is loud, using his hands as he talks, everyone laughing around him. “Payno fucking tore through them. Untouchable, I tell you. He just popped on the other side of the group of them like a fucking bullet, and that was it.” He pauses, a grin on his lips. “Touchdown. Game over. State champions. Second year in a row.”

Liam shakes his head, an embarrassed groan leaving his lips. “It wasn’t that great, Nialler,” he denies.

“Bullshit,” is said from about three or four people around them, and they all laugh, making a heat rise in Liam’s cheeks.

“That does sound like bullshit,” Zayn says quietly, so only Liam can hear, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

Liam scoots closer to him so they are almost pressed together. “It was alright,” he teases back.

He takes Zayn’s hand, the one across from him, thumb rubbing at the vein of his wrist once the group’s attention is off of them. Zayn has a cigarette pressed between two fingers, and Liam clucks his tongue disapprovingly. “What happened to needing your lungs to live?”

Zayn grimaces sheepishly. “I um?”

Liam snorts, letting his wrist drop back onto his thigh, favoring to rub that thumb against Zayn’s chin. Seriously, if he keeps doing that Zayn is going to burst into flames. It is such a gentle touch and Liam looks like he can’t help but do it, and it drives him a bit mad. “Just messin’, dude.”

He lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

Liam’s eyes drop for a long beat, before they slide back up to Zayn’s. “You wanna go for a walk?” They are close enough that Zayn can smell the sticky marshmallow on his tongue, and Zayn wants to explore the taste and see if it is better that way than squished between graham crackers and chocolate.

“Sure,” he grins. Liam nods, sliding their fingers together and helping him up. No one seems to notice as they slip past the group, who is laughing and listening intently to another story Niall is telling. Doniya’s got her head in Danielle’s lap, eyes clenched with laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Liam chuckles once their toes press into the wet sand, the water coming up and slowly chasing after them.

“For?”

The voices are distant, the fire still as bright from where they stand. It sounds like he is laughing at himself, and when his eyes flick towards Zayn, they are bright. They walk a bit more, around where the beach curves. It goes out to a point, where the water is clearer, colder.

Liam stops, turning towards him. He rocks back on his heels a bit, biting around a smile. “For being a bit forward? Possibly a bit creepy and just in case you want to punch me after?”

“What?” Zayn chuckles, scrunching his nose. This time it’s him who tilts his head, taking in the other man’s expression.

Liam slides the palm of his hand against his cheek, cupping his jaw. “I’ve wanted to do this all week, I don’t know – like, I know why, you’re cute, yeah? I just don’t know why it feels so necessary –“

He trails off as his head leans forward. Zayn barely has the time to process the fact that _Liam Payne_ just called him cute, let alone the fact that those full lips are ghosting against his own. They’re hesitant, just a soft pressure, and Zayn’s still underneath them.

He slots his lips with the older boy when Liam’s hand drops from his face, fearing he’s going to pull away because Zayn can’t get his shit together. He curls his hands around the lapels of Liam’s shirt, keeping him close, letting Liam guide the kiss when his palms return to Zayn’s jaw.

Liam’s tongue prods at his lips, parting them before sliding against his own, coaxing a moan from Zayn’s throat. It seems to be what Liam needs to deepen the kiss, pressing his body flush against his.

There’s the scent of musky cologne mixing in with the smoke from the fire lingering on their clothes. Liam does taste sweet, but there’s something else there besides marshmallow, like cinnamon. Zayn pushes his tongue back, wanting to taste Liam the way Liam’s tasting him.

Liam hums when he pulls back, Zayn’s head instantly moving forward to keep going. He chuckles, keeping his hands firm on Zayn’s jaw.

“That was okay?”

Zayn nods. “M’not gonna punch you,” he mumbles with a smile. But he might do back flips along the sand (if he knew how to do back flips.)

Liam lets out an over dramatic sigh of relief. “Oh thank god.” He rubs a thumb against Zayn’s bottom lip, dragging it down towards his chin. “Can you tell me when you are going to? So I know to stop?”

“Not going to do that,” Zayn promises, pushing up on his feet to kiss him again. Liam is not that much taller than him, but he feels huge right now, with the way his fingers tilt Zayn’s head back and everything surrounding him is _Liam_.

His jaw aches by the time Liam is intertwining their fingers again, leading him back towards the others. He doesn’t know how long they were gone, but Niall’s looks drunk, cheeks red and giggling mad as Harry presses him against a towel on the sand. Doniya is laughing, an arm around Jade’s shoulders and the same boy from the party leaning his back against her knees. There are people dancing a small distance off to something fast and exciting. Liam drags him past them all to sit on the other side of the fire, so the rest of them are just a blur through the flames.

“Here,” Liam says, shrugging off the blocky red and black plaid shirt and handing it to Zayn. It is big on him, hanging loosely on his shoulders and he has to roll the sleeves. “You were shivering back there.”

Zayn doesn’t think he was shivering because of the cold, but he says thank you anyway.

“Are you doing anything this summer?” Liam asks, leaning back on his elbows.

“Getting ready for school, working. That’s probably it,” he admits. He works at a bookstore not too far off from the beach, part-time during school and full-time during the summer. “What about you?”

Liam hasn’t been back since he left for school his first year, at least, not that Zayn is aware of. Doniya usually stays at school for the summer too, but she has visited for most holidays. Zayn’s not sure if he could go away for such a long time. He is a bit attached to home. That is why one of the schools he’s chosen is a few miles from Doniya’s, the farthest he is willing to go.

“This,” Liam says, gesturing the beach. “And work. Needed some extra money, so my pops offered me a job at the factory he works at.”

“You don’t have football practice?”

“I do,” Liam answers, turning so he can touch Zayn’s face lightly again. “In August. Football camp is optional. We usually all go, but I needed to make money this summer so my team understood.”

Zayn nods. He has a lot of questions, ones that would most likely reveal that he knows way more about the older man than he should, so he just sticks to the one at the front of his brain. “Can I kiss you again?”

Liam grins, closing the space between them.

 

It is too early for him to be up, but he is. It’s probably due to the knocking around he can hear on the other side of the room. The thin walls have always made it difficult for him to sleep through Doniya’s noise.

“Where are you going?”

Doniya looks up from her where she’s shoving clothes into a duffel bag. “Going to see Sophia,” she tells him, coming over to kiss his forehead.  “I’ll tell her you said hey, okay?”

“You just got back,” Zayn pouts. He feels selfish, really. But Doniya sees Sophia all of the time and Zayn never does. Sophia lives only a few miles from Doniya’s school in Danforth.

She laughs at him, but it’s not unkind. “I missed you too, baby bro. But I’ll only be gone the night.”

“Oh,” Zayn says apologetically. He feels a bit relieved. Doniya’s his only older sister. Their bond is a bit different than the one Zayn has with Waliyha and Safaa, and he’s missed her. “Who are you going with?”

“Nosy, aren’t you?” Doniya teases, going back to packing. “Jade, Danielle, Liam and Andy.”

“Andy?” Zayn repeats, teasing her now. He ignores the way his heart picks up the pace at the mention of Liam. “Is that the boy who-“

Doniya shoves him into the hallway, slamming the door in his face and confirming his suspicions. He’ll have to ask Waliyha about Andy.

“Come on, Zayn,” Safaa whines, poking her head out of her bedroom door. “You said you would help me with my homework.”

 

The next time Zayn sees Liam is when he comes back with his sister and the others from Danforth. Zayn doesn’t expect it to be him when there’s a knock at his door, but that’s what he gets.

And he is definitely not complaining.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” he asks, without greeting. He leans against the door frame, arms crossed against his chest as he waits for Zayn to answer. It makes his arms bulge, and he can see the blocky tattoo stretched across his forearm.

“Um,” Zayn starts. He never has anything planned unless Harry tells him to come over. But they never actually make official plans to do that, it’s just kind of spur of the moment most of the time. “I don’t think so.”

“Cool. Want to come over? We can watch a movie or something?”

Zayn should have ran away and hid in a hole like he had wanted to that night at the party, because _fuck_. Nerves tighten in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to say. English is his favorite subject, but for some reason he doesn’t know how to even speak it -

Liam’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “I mean, like – nothing funny. On the couch, if you want. I just don’t get paid until next week, and um, I’d like to hang out?”

“Yeah, okay,” Zayn says quickly, nodding with each word. “What time?”

Liam shrugs. “Like after seven? I’ll come pick you up.”

Zayn nods. His tongue feels thick, making it difficult to make any sound. Liam stands up straight, leaning to press his lips to the corner of Zayn’s lips.

“See you then, Zayn.”

 

“You’re going to have sex,” Harry says seriously, poking him in the chest. “You’ve been heart eyes over that dude for like what, five years now? And you are two, young attractive men who are going to bang.”

“Go away,” Zayn groans, pulling on another shirt. There is currently a pile on the floor because he’s not sure what to wear. Comfy? Nice, but still casual? He doesn’t know. “And the last three years don’t count because I haven’t seen him.”

“I’m just saying. I have some lube if you need it, but I’m sure Liam has some –“

“Harry!” Zayn says, throwing the shirt he just took off at his best friend. “We are not having sex. I barely know him.”

“You’ve hooked up with people you hardly knew before,” he argues back easily, throwing the shirt in the pile. “That kid with the hair, Perrie, that one bloke with the –“ He circles a hand in front of his face like Zayn’s supposed to know what he means by that.

“I knew Perrie,” Zayn says, but it’s hopeless. Harry has that amused grin on his face that tells Zayn he could go for hours, and he’s nervous enough as it is. Talking about sex with Liam is just making it worse.

He wouldn’t be opposed to sleeping with Liam. He just doesn’t think they’re going to. And he’d be embarrassed. Because sure, Zayn’s not exactly a virgin, but Liam’s twenty, a senior in college, and has been an all-star football player throughout college and high school. He has to be more experienced.

“I need a new best mate,” Zayn says suddenly, glaring at Harry. “You’re just making me more nervous.”

Harry’s smile is soft now, when he claps Zayn on the back. “Sorry, sorry. Maybe it will just be mutual hands jobs. Much less scary.”

Zayn elbows him with a laugh. There is nothing less scary about that.

He settles with a blue and red plaid button up. Which, he doesn’t have a choice in the matter because Liam is pulling into his driveway and he really doesn’t have enough time to undo every button and find another shirt. (But at this point, he has tried on nearly everything he owns, there _isn’t_ another shirt.)

Liam drives a truck, one of those big ones that take up half the road, shiny and sleek like it costs money. Zayn’s out the front door before Liam can get out of his truck and knock on it. Even though Doniya’s not home, he’s afraid his parents would be more than a bit shocked that it’s him leaving with Liam.

“Have fun,” Harry says with a grin. He wiggles his eyebrows as he waves to Liam, saying “Make sure to wrap it up.”

Zayn prays Liam isn’t good at reading lips.

“You okay?” Liam asks, as he’s tugging his seatbelt on. Zayn feels tiny in the truck, like his feet should be dangling off the seat. It smells like Liam’s cologne, and a bit of Doniya – maybe from the ride back from seeing Sophia.

Zayn glances in the rearview quickly, seeing that his cheeks are flushed and his hair is a bit tousled. He really needs to get out of the habit of playing with his hair when he’s nervous. “Oh yeah, fine.”

An old RnB tune plays quietly from the radio when it goes quiet for a moment. Zayn tries to focus on the graduation tassel that hangs on the rearview mirror, along with a gold chain with a blocky 23 pendant dangling from it. The rest of the car is neat, seemingly brand new. There’s not a single – _anything_ on the ground or in the holders between them.

“What?” Zayn asks, biting on his lip to hold back a laugh that’s more from nerves than anything else. He feels like he’s fourteen again, sneaking glances at Liam in the hallway with a stomach full of butterflies. _Your true beauty’s description looks so good that it hurts –_

“Nothin’,” Liam chuckles. “Just want to kiss you again.”

Zayn’s stomach twists and he eyes his lap, trying to hide the smile that makes him look fourteen.  “Sounds okay.”

Liam snorts, turning the wheel sharply to turn into another driveway. It’s a small house, one that’s familiar to him from picking up Doniya when they were younger. There are no other cars in the driveway, which is probably a good thing because Liam’s truck takes up nearly the whole thing.

“This car –“ Zayn gasps, jumping out of the truck. “Is massive, Liam. What the hell-“

Liam chuckles, hands on his waist to steady him. Zayn’s breath catches, but not from his near death fall. Liam’s front is pressing against him, pushing him until his back presses against the cool, hard surface of the car.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, leaning down to press his smile against Zayn’s lips. “Couldn’t wait.”

“It’s okay,” he breathes, eyes widening as Liam pulls away, fingers slotting with his to lead him to the house.

All the lights are off when they walk inside and Liam apologizes, flicking the ones in their path on as they walk through. The house smells like those bakery candles his mom lights sometimes, and it’s cozy. There’s an afghan hanging over the back of the couch, a tiny plant on the table in front of it.

“Don’t laugh,” Liam warns, shrugging off the zip up he’s wearing. “But I was really excited about the new Hobbit movie and I haven’t gotten to see it yet.” He pulls the DVD from the shelf next to the television, shaking it with a grin. “If you’re down?”

Zayn wants to close the space between them just to pinch him, because he is pretty sure he is dreaming and Liam Payne isn’t real. Instead he settles on the couch, hands in his lap as Liam puts the movie in. It’s awkward sitting there and watching him, because all he can think about is what Harry had said and he was serious about finding a new best friend.

Liam really has changed in the last three years, though he had been fit back then, just with softer, boyish features. His arms now are thicker, bulging against the thin shirt he wears, jaw sharp and defined with the same rounded cheeks. Zayn can only imagine what his torso looks like, how muscular –

Well, he probably shouldn’t.

“I ordered pizza,” Liam says, oblivious to the fact that Zayn is practically salivating over him on his family’s couch. “From that joint next to the bookstore? If you want some.”

Zayn nods, and Liam leaves him for a moment and he tries to catch his breath.

It feels oddly like a date, even though Liam hadn’t specified that it was. And it’s not as awkward once Liam’s face lights up with excitement as the movie starts, wiggling where he sits like he’s not a grown man.

Liam slides an arm around Zayn’s shoulders once he’s finished his slice of pizza, pulling him close. _Finally._ Zayn doesn’t quite care about the movie, he would much rather watch Liam watch the movie. He is practically glowing, and Zayn pretends not to hear the way he hums to the background music, even though he had said he had never seen the movie before.

“How old are you again?” Zayn teases.

Liam pouts, full lips pushing out and his brows furrowing together. “Are you saying a twenty year old man can’t get excited over a movie?”

“No, it’s cute,” Zayn explains, softly, eyes flicking down to Liam’s lips, still formed into a pout. They really are obscene, slick and full, a ruddy pink color.

_“You know what they say about lips,” Harry had said and the grin on his face should have warned Zayn not to pay any attention to him. “They’re the same color as the tip of the dick –“_

Zayn is definitely finding a new best friend.

“I’m not cute,” Liam denies, pushing his brows together, attempting an intimidating look and jutting his chin out.

Zayn snorts. “Pretty cute to me.”

A grin pushes high into Liam’s rounded cheeks when he kisses Zayn’s forehead. “I’m glad you agreed to hang out. I really want to get to know you.”

“Why?” Zayn asks, pulling his head back to look at him. He looks genuine but Zayn can’t be sure. There is nothing exciting about him. He’s a shadow, blended into the crowd while Liam’s bright, the center of that crowd’s attention.

“I dunno. I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Sounds cheesy, but –“ Liam shrugs, red expanding across his sun kissed skin. “So I figured I could get to know you, at least then it would make sense.”

Zayn takes a bite of his pizza so he doesn’t have to respond, because anything he could try to say would be incoherent most likely.

“That’s okay yeah? Don’t want to punch me yet?”

“No,” Zayn laughs. He licks the grease off his fingers, feeling it rude to rub it on his jeans when he wants to impress the man sitting next to him, who just admitted to not being able to stop talking to him and how is that possible?

“Let me,” Liam murmurs, fingers circling around his wrist. He flicks his tongue against the pad of Zayn’s thumb, making his breath hitch. Liam gives him a teasing smile before he wraps his lips around it, sucking gently.

“Is that how you want to get to know me?” Zayn says lowly, eyes darting to where his own tanned skin contrasts against that obscene ruddy color. 

“That too, yeah,” he admits with ease. Zayn drags his thumb slowly away, nail catching on Liam’s lower lip. He wonders what color they would be when they’re bruised and swollen.

“You can,” he tells him, scooching closer even though there is barely any space between them anyway.

Liam’s hand is firm on his hip, as he leans forward, pressing Zayn so his back is against the couch. “Yeah?” he breathes against Zayn’s jaw where he nuzzles his nose.

“Yeah.” And that definitely sounds choked, there’s no way Liam couldn’t hear it. But Liam just hums, pushing his lips against his.

Zayn could spend a lifetime kissing Liam. His lips are so soft, hands gentle where they slide up his side. Until they’re not, and he’s grabbing Zayn roughly, pulling him onto his lap without warning and a groan that his dick takes interest in. Zayn doesn’t resist, doesn’t hesitate to straddle his thighs around Liam’s waist, fingers pressing him back. His head rests against the back of the couch, eyes lidded as he looks up at Zayn, a lip trapped between his teeth.

Zayn closes the space again, licking into Liam’s mouth until he can taste the soda he had been drinking with his pizza, confidence building with every gasp moving past Liam’s lips. They kiss until his lips feel bruised from the tug of Liam’s teeth, until he’s panting embarrassingly against Liam’s mouth, hips pressing down because he can’t help the way his length aches for friction.

Liam moans, deep and low when Zayn does it again, fingers digging into his hips to keep him pressed down against him.

He feels small against Liam’s chest, thighs thin under the hands expanding across them. Liam bites roughly at his throat, tongue sliding along every mark he makes. As gentle as he always is, Zayn wonders if he would manhandle him. He really fucking hopes so.

Liam’s head falls back, chest falling and rising with heavy breaths as he stills Zayn above him. Ending just as fast as it started. “We should stop,” he breathes. There’s a pinched expression on his face, like those three words were painful to say.

Zayn flinches, chest tightening painfully. He goes to slide off, ready to run far, far away, but Liam keeps his hands firm on his hips, not letting him move.

“Not because I don’t want to, but because I really, really want to,” Liam chuckles, pressing his hips up against Zayn so he can understand. There is too much material between them for Zayn to feel him, but when he looks down he can see the bulge of Liam’s jeans that confirms his words.

Zayn is confused and he doesn’t keep it from showing on his face. “Okay.” He drags the word out, itching nervously at the scruff starting to grow across his chin.

Liam shifts so he’s straightened some, keeping Zayn still in his lap. “I don’t want you to think,” he starts, voice soft but his eyes are dark and blown out still. “That’s why I invited you over here.”

“I don’t,” Zayn insists. Not until Harry had brought it up, at least. That was his fault though. He is pretty sure he was sporting a semi before he even left his house.

“You’re young, yeah? Don’t want you to –“

“Get attached?” Zayn finishes for him, voice tight. He is only two and a half years younger than him, thanks.

“No.” Liam pecks his lips against Zayn’s quickly. “I’m not sure I mind that all too much,” he says, grinning, amusement in his face like it’s funny. It’s not. It’s confusing. “Just when I was younger like, I hated thinking people just wanted to fuck around, but I always did. Just don’t want you to. I’m not like that.”

“Liam,” Zayn says firmly, thinking Liam might keep going on if he doesn’t interrupt. Maybe it’s his dick that is making him feel more confident, because it fucking _hurts_ he’s so hard, or maybe it is the round, wounded puppy eye look Liam is giving him that he kind of really wants to get rid of. “I don’t think that, and if I did, I probably still would have come.” He chuckles, pressing his lips to Liam’s again. “But if you don’t want to, can I please excuse myself for the bathroom.”

Liam laughs, vibrating deep in his chest. “Are you sure?”

Zayn nods, hands sliding up Liam’s chest to curl them around the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Liam nods. “Come on then,” he ushers, squeezing his arms tightly around Zayn. That grin is back, the one that is playful with just a hint of cockiness.

“Here?” Zayn questions, looking around. They are on the couch, in the living room, of his _family’s_ home.

“Parents are gone for the night,” Liam assures, nudging his lips against Zayn’s until they part for him. “Just you and me.”

There is no warning before Zayn’s being lifted and dropped to his feet. Liam’s lips are back on his, fingers working deftly at his chinos until Zayn gets the hint and starts undoing Liam’s. It’s fumbled, but Liam keeps him steady with a hand around his waist as Zayn steps out of the chinos and pushes Liam back onto the couch, jeans pooled at his ankles.

 _Fuck,_ Zayn thinks, taking advantage of Liam’s position. He eyes the wiry hair of his calves, the strong of his thighs, soft, pale skin stretched across the bulge of muscle. His cock presses obscenely against the tight of his briefs, the white contrasting against the tan of his skin.

“Like what you see?” Liam teases, thumb hooking on the edge of his shirt. He lifts the material just enough that Zayn can see the trail of hair from his belly button to the top of his briefs. Fuck yeah, he thinks. His cock agrees, pushing out drops of precome just looking at Liam.

Zayn crawls on his lap, groaning instead of voicing his thoughts. Liam chuckles, palms sliding over the back of Zayn’s thighs, gripping urgently. He doesn’t tell Zayn to stop this time, as he grinds their hips together, cocks rubbing against each other in a way that makes his stomach tighten.

Zayn has been with other guys before, but no one quite as beautiful as Liam. As _manly_ as Liam, the right amount of both aggressive and gentle like Liam. The thick of his scruff, not quite a beard but more than a shadow, scratches Zayn’s skin raw in the best way when he moves his lips past his jaw and to the curve of his neck. His moans are hoarse and deep, vibrating against Zayn’s skin.

He likes to be the one in control, maneuvering a body underneath him, squirming and desperate for his every touch. But with Liam, fuck, he wants Liam to be the one in control, pressing him into the soft cushion in the couch and making him desperate -

“Could come like this, yeah?” Liam groans, lips moving to the bit of chest that’s bare at the top of his shirt. He drags his tongue across the exposed skin, hands cupping Zayn’s ass to bring him down harder.

“Yeah,” Zayn whimpers, head falling against the couch beside Liam’s head. Arousal is twisting in his gut, his cock leaking precome with every press of Liam’s hips. Liam’s cock is so hard, thick against his own and Zayn wants to know what it feels like thrusting into him –

Zayn’s arms are shaky when he pushes himself up, bracing himself against the couch so he can look at Liam as he thrusts against him. His lips are swollen, slick and a deep red color. There is a sheen of sweat against his skin, making the longer hair at the top of his head stick to his forehead. Never in a million years did Zayn think he would be able to see this side of Liam, and he’s still not sure if he’s dreaming or not.

He groans rough and wrecked, body shuddering as Liam tugs his briefs roughly down so his ass is bare. It should be embarrassing, the way he comes before Liam’s palms are back on his bare skin, but it’s not. It’s fucking amazing, the way his body falls forward, pleasure racking through him, making his thighs quake around Liam’s.

Zayn reaches between them, rubbing the palm of his hand roughly against Liam’s cock until he is coming too, soaking through the material of his briefs. It is beautiful, the sharp moan he lets out, the way his hips stutter forward. Zayn is definitely dreaming, because there is no way something so beautiful is real -

“Mm,” Liam moans roughly, hand cupping the back of Zayn’s neck to press their lips together, rutting against him still to pull out the rest of his orgasm.  Zayn smiles against it, feeling light, giddy almost, high on the taste of Liam.

“Thought you were excited to see this movie?” Zayn’s laugh is more like a giggle, childish sounding like when he was fourteen and this was just a crush.

“I’ve seen it twice,” Liam admits, grinning shyly into the shrug of his shoulder. “Didn’t want you to know what a nerd I am.”

“Football star? Remember?” Zayn reminds him. “I’m pretty sure that cancels out any nerd tendencies.”

Liam groans, but he is smiling. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Liam’s bedroom is neat, just like his truck. The bed is made, desk clear of any items except for two suitcases that are still unpacked resting on top. The walls are bare except for a jersey tacked above the desk, similar to the one Liam had been wearing at the school, except this one is mostly white, with some red and black rather than all red and black.

When Liam turns towards the closet, he pulls off the shirt he is wearing, and Zayn gets a full view of the curve of muscles covering his back. Football is an amazing thing, and Zayn hass never been more grateful for it in his life.

Liam looks over his shoulder, a gray knitted jumper in his hands. “I think this might fit you?” He says, handing it to Zayn. “Had it for a while, you know, when I was a bit smaller.”

“And not so ripped,” Zayn murmurs, reaching out to touch Liam’s back. He drops his hand, flushing to his hairline when he realizes those weren’t just thoughts. “I mean, um, I already have that plaid shirt still. I can’t take another.”

Liam shrugs, turning around to kiss Zayn softly. He takes advantage of them being close, running his fingers over the ridges of Liam’s abdomen, dragging his nails across the coarse hair under his belly button. “I’ll get them back later. Plus, if you stay shirtless I may not be able to get through the movie. Again.”

Zayn grins, taking a step back to look at Liam’s bare chest appreciatively. Zayn has a one pack, maybe. He considers it more just being skinny than anything else, with a bony chest that looks like it could be crushed with a press of a hand. Liam on the other hand well - “Speak for yourself.”

Even though they try to watch the movie again, they miss most of it, too busy with lips bruising against each other, fingers curled around each other’s cocks until they are breathless, bones heavy from exhaustion. Liam brings him home, pressing him against the car once more to kiss him goodbye and a promise of a _next time_.

 

“Oh my god.”

Zayn groans, rubbing at his eyes to clear the sleep blurring his vision. Harry is leaning over him, a lopsided grin on his face, dimples digging deep into his cheeks.

“What, Haz?” he says, shoving Harry away from him. He hates when his sisters let him in when he is still sleeping. He hates that Harry comes over even though he _knows_ Zayn is still sleeping.

Harry pinches his throat roughly, making Zayn snap up and punch him in the arm. He rubs his neck, glaring at his best friend. “What the fuck?”

“Hickey,” Harry chokes out through laughter, clutching at his stomach. “I told you you were going to have sex with him.”

“We didn’t,” Zayn denies adamantly.

Harry quirks a brow. “Did you make him come? Or vice versa?”

Zayn falls back against the bed, hiding his face into the pillow. But he is smiling, grinning from ear to ear because yeah, he _did._

“Wait until I tell everyone,” Harry jokes, curling behind Zayn’s back. “I’m going to get so much money. Can you imagine our school newspaper? They’ll eat this shit up.”

Zayn elbows him, but doesn’t move away. He loves Harry, even if he hates him.

**June**

The last three weeks of school are full of stress. Homework, exams, big projects, extensive research papers, and _Liam_. Zayn finds himself too often in the back seat of Liam’s truck, straddling Liam’s thighs, parked somewhere probably more suspicious than they think it is. They see each other almost every day, even though Zayn really needs to be focused on school instead of Liam. The only days they don’t see each other are the two days he goes back to Danforth each week, sometimes with the girls, sometimes without. They don’t talk a whole lot, just about casual conversation about each other’s days, before their light kissing and gentle touches become rougher and turn into rushed hand jobs. Zayn couldn’t be happier.

“Look at you,” his mom says, voice choked as her eyes water. She tugs at the lapels of his gown, reaching to fix the way his cap tilts off of his head. He hadn’t bothered with his hair, knowing he would have to wear this obnoxious thing for too long that anything he did with his hair would be ruined by it anyway. It is hot and itchy and he will be sweating by the time the _M_ s are called.

“Mom, don’t cry,” he groans in embarrassment. Waliyha grins at him from over their mother’s shoulders and he glares. Wait until she graduates. He is going to make a scene with tears and everything, worse than his mother’s.

“No promises,” she says, patting his chest. The tears are already starting to slip past her eyelids and he just sighs, hugging her. Doniya, Safaa and his dad are already in their seats in the auditorium, probably hiding away because they know how emotional his mom can get. She cried twice already this week, the first time because Zayn was going to take his last exam and the second because he came home from his last official day of high school.

He hugs her again and his younger sister before joining his classmates in line behind the auditorium. He is nervous, though he is not sure why. It’s just graduation – he is going to be sitting in a chair for two hours. He could get his diploma without having to do that, but he is pretty sure his mother would murder him for even suggesting it.

“Are you ready?” Harry asks. Curls creep out from underneath his graduation cap, green eyes bright with an excitement that isn’t mutual.

“To sit? Yeah,” Zayn mumbles back.

Harry glares at him, shoving him slightly. “Don’t be a shit. We are finally done with this place. Get excited.”

Zayn does his best to push his lips into the biggest smile he can manage, teeth bared and all. Harry grimaces at him. “How is this?” Zayn asks, nose crinkling as he laughs at Harry’s uncomfortable expression.

“You’re awful,” Harry says. He wiggles his eyebrows before nodding in the direction of the hallway. “Your boy.”

Zayn looks over instantly, seeing that warm smile and those crinkly eyes. He has shaved, so his beard is now only a shadow and he is wearing a fitted dress shirt, the top few buttons undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows. Zayn needs his heart to calm down, honestly.

“Hey,” Liam murmurs, sliding a palm against Zayn’s jaw. They are in public, the whole senior class standing around them, but Liam doesn’t seem to care. Zayn definitely doesn’t. “Just wanted to wish you luck, and congratulations, of course.”

Zayn crinkles his nose. “Thanks, Liam.”

He nods, warmth in his smile that fills Zayn. “Are you going to the grad party tomorrow?”

“I don’t have a choice,” he explains. Harry hums in agreement from beside him and Zayn wants to shove him away and tell him to fuck off and stop wiggling his eyebrows at them.

“I’ll see you then, yeah?” Liam doesn’t wait for Zayn to respond before he is pressing his lips to his forehead and pulling away with a grin and a wave, and at least four people watching him walk away with heart eyes. Zayn included.

Graduation goes as planned, except Harry pays the guy next to Zayn ten dollars to switch seats with him, running up to join the _S_ group when they stand in line, a cheeky grin on his face when he meets the teacher’s disapproving looks, Niall shouting Harry’s name from the back.

Zayn is glad, because he is nervous even though it’s stupid, and Harry being there beside him relaxes him enough that he doesn’t run off stage. (And he tears up a little bit when his family cheers for him but he will never admit to it.)

There is a big celebration dinner afterwards, with the Styles family and his own. Except his own family doesn’t include just his parents and his three sisters, but there is also his grandparents, aunties and uncles and enough cousins to form a small army. They have it at his house, no venue large enough for them, and Zayn dreads it though he is thankful for his family, it’s just the constant _‘did you decide what school you’re going to?’_ and ‘what are you going to do with your life’s that he keeps getting that he’s not so thankful for.

Doniya saves him a few times, an arm around his shoulders and an excuse for an older family member about how he is being summoned to the kitchen by someone or another.  The last time he needs to be saved, it is from one of his aunts he doesn’t know very well, who won’t stop talking about some other kid she knows, that Zayn doesn’t care about, who is going to an Ivy League on a full ride.

Doniya drags him off to the living room, where only the little ones play around on the carpet. Little, uncaring, nonjudgmental about Zayn’s indecision, ones.

“Thanks,” he breathes out, rustling his fingers through his hair. “If I had to listen to how amazing Tommy or whatever his name is one more time, I was going to explode. I don’t care how many scholarships that guy has.”

“No problem. But you do need to decide soon, Zayn. I don’t think you have much time left.”

“I know.”

She gives him a kind smile, one that makes her look just like their mom. “Want your big sister to help?”

He flops down on the couch. “Was it hard for you to decide? Didn’t you want to go to another school?”

She had always wanted to be a dancer, if he remembers correctly. Which she is, part-time at a dance studio by her school, but she is majoring in physical education instead of pursuing dance at this prestigious dance school in New York she had applied, and got accepted to. “Yeah. Danforth was my second choice. It wasn’t hard to decide though. You know.”

Zayn nods, he does. _Sophia._ “I don’t have a reason for Danforth, though. Like, I know you’re there, but I don’t know if it’s the same.” Everton is about ten minutes from Doniya’s school, and even though he knew his parents would never let him go, he had to apply anyway. Just for reassurance, or something – he is still not sure, but it felt necessary to send in a portfolio he spent the last three years on.

“It’s not, but you do have a reason. Everton’s an art school and you’ve always wanted to do art. What other reason do you need?”

“But Mom and Dad -“

Doniya shoves him, making him fall to the side of the couch before he can finish. There’s a serious look on her face when he sits back up, scowling at her. “You know Mom and Dad won’t care.”

“But I have a scholarship,” he insists. To a school half way across the country. For English, which he loves, but _art_ –

“They will not care,” she repeats, punctuating each word so he understands. Her expression softens when she kisses his forehead. “Don’t be afraid to ask them, if you’re worried about it.”

Zayn just shrugs, gives her a quiet thank you. He has two more weeks to make up his mind, or he is stuck with a low paying job at a bookstore and two chances at college down the drain.

“And plus,” Doniya goes on, voice teasing. “Maybe this summer you’ll find a reason to go to Danforth.”

He doesn’t know what she means by that, but the glint in her eyes makes him nervous. She doesn’t offer an explanation as she leaves him on the couch, leaving him to think maybe she knows about Liam. Not that he is hiding it from her, but he is not necessarily jumping at the chance of telling her he has been messing about with one of her best friends, either.

 

Zayn is thankful that he let Harry drag him to the pool for the grad party the next day. Liam is in the water, droplets glistening off his tanned, bare torso and yeah, Zayn is thankful.

He shakes water out of his hair, eyes clenching as he laughs because he threw Jade in the water and she is trying to glare her lips are twitching upwards in defiance. It is hard not to smile when you are that close to someone as beautiful as Liam, Zayn thinks.

Zayn tries not to stare from where he lays back on the lawn chair, Niall next to him, but he can’t help it. He makes his way to the ledge of the pool (not for a better view if anyone asks), dipping his feet in and letting them rotate through the water. It is cold, but the air is starting to warm into something more similar to summer so it feels nice.

Liam swims over when he spots him, a playful grin on his face when he stops in between Zayn’s legs. It is shallow enough for him to stand, but he keeps most of himself below the surface, arms moving the water around him. “Gonna come in?”

“No,” Zayn says, hooking his ankles around Liam’s torso with an equally playful grin.

Liam pouts, palms sliding up Zayn’s calves under the water. He can feel the wrinkles on the pad of his fingers. “Come on. We’re playing chicken. Want you on my team.”

Zayn grimaces. He didn’t think people actually did that. He doesn’t understand _why_ people would actually do that. “No way. I’ll drown.”

Liam drags his wrinkled fingers down Zayn’s legs, curling at his ankles before he is tugging Zayn off the edge of the pool. Zayn lets out a yelp as he falls forward, but the water only comes up to his chest before there are arms around him like a vice grip, keeping him from falling under the surface and from hitting the ledge of the pool.

“I got you,” Liam says cheerfully. Zayn wants to pretend that he is mad and demand Liam swim him back to the ladder so he can get out but it is really difficult when the press of Liam’s body is against his own, and Liam has that goofy grin on his face that somehow still manages to work with his whole manly image.

So that is how he ends up with his thighs framing the sides of Liam’s face, strong hands gripping his calves securely. His crotch pressed into the back of Liam’s skull and fingers twisted around Jade’s as he tries to throw her off. It is fun, a bit exhilarating being so high and so above water with the risk of falling sending adrenaline through him.

Until he actually does fall, and there is a swoop in his stomach like when you are driving too fast over a hill, and he lands in the water with an angry smack against his back.

He is only under the surface for a second, half way through the thought of _this is how it ends_ because he hadn’t closed his mouth and a large gulp of water is making itself home in his lungs, before Liam is pulling him up, brows pushed together in concern. “See, I got you,” he assures, face softening. Zayn is grateful that at least Liam’s not laughing at him as he coughs up the water. Harry is though, cackling in the background somewhere.

“Lookin’ a bit fond there, Payne,” Doniya scolds gently, kicking water at Liam and swimming off with a laugh. Zayn flushes, wishing Liam would drop him back in the water and let him drown.

Liam doesn’t let him go though, securing an arm around his back as he kicks his legs out around them. He floats back, tugging Zayn with him. “I am a bit fond,” he admits, voice quiet.

Zayn snorts, pressing closer when Liam’s back bumps against the side of the pool. It is just a simple statement, but it doesn’t feel that way. At all. “You know you look real manly and rugged but you’re actually a fucking cheese ball.”

“Romantic,” Liam corrects, looking at him pointedly. “I’m a romantic.”

“Same thing,” Zayn teases, trying to pull away but Liam holds on tighter. His sister is _right there_ , and so is like, a hundred other people.

Liam’s legs tangle with his under the water, the thin material of his swim shorts rustling against Zayn’s thighs. He doesn’t want to pull away. He really just wants to kiss the sunburnt chest in front of him.

“Fine,” Liam pouts when Zayn struggles to pull away again. He releases his arms and Zayn’s fly out, grabbing for the edge of the pool by Liam’s shoulders before he sinks into the deep water. He glares when he has finally got a secure hold and is no longer worried about drowning. He knees Liam in the crotch in retaliation, but it’s more of a press of the knee, and he really doesn’t expect Liam to groan in response, but he does and his retaliation backfires on him.

“You’re difficult,” Zayn sighs fondly, swimming so he is next to Liam instead of pressed against him, hand still secure on the edge.

“Stop making me have to be,” Liam replies easily. He reaches his fingers out and Zayn shies away from them this time.

“My sister,” he explains, nudging his head back where she had been a moment ago.

Liam’s brows furrow and he is quiet for a moment, as if he is trying to figure out what Zayn means. “D’you know what she said to me yesterday? Before I left your graduation?”  He waits for Zayn to shake his head. Of course he doesn’t know if Liam hadn’t told him. “She said ‘you might be my best friend, Li, but if you hurt my brother, then I promise you -’ and then the rest was kind of violent. I’ll spare you the details.”

Zayn eyes him suspiciously. That does sound like Doniya, but Liam has known her long enough that he would know what she would say –

Liam sighs, moving closer. “It’s not that surprising that she figured it out. You should see the way you look at me.” His nose scrunches as he laughs, eyes crinkling as he leans back. (Zayn knows he would be embarrassed if he could see the way he looks at _Liam Payne_ , so yeah, maybe it’s not that hard to believe Doniya would figure it out.)

“Shut up,” he grunts, reaching to slide his hand around Liam’s neck so he can do just that. Screaming _fuck it_ to himself because he has been wanting to kiss Liam since he first got here. And he remembers what Doniya said the day before. _Maybe this summer you’ll find a reason to go to Danforth._

Liam grins into the kiss, and Zayn knows it is probably smug though Liam’s smug grin is still too goofy to take serious. There is some hooting and someone splashes water at them but Zayn just curls his arms around Liam’s neck, wrapping his legs around his waist while Liam keeps them afloat.

“Just so you know,” Liam breathes, pulling his head back. There is a sparkle in his eyes, sun reflecting off the water droplets stuck to his skin. “If you keep kissing me like that, I’m going to have to drag you out of this pool and everyone will know what we’re up to.”

“Romantic,” Zayn snorts. But he’s not opposed to the idea.

Liam does end up dragging him out of the pool, but because his stomach is growling angrily at the smell of the grill in the park besides the community pool. Niall is grinning with a spatula in hand, even more sunburnt than before as they waddle over to the table of food after drying themselves off.

“So,” Doniya starts, sliding an arm around Zayn’s shoulders when Liam takes over the grill. It shouldn’t be so hot, Liam standing there shirtless, hair wet and sticking to the side of his head while he happily flips burgers. But it is.

Fuck, Zayn is in too deep. He feels ridiculous, childish, and completely, one hundred percent head over heels.

“Liam Payne,” she continues, smirking.

Zayn flushes. “Um, yeah. About that.”

“Wali’s going to be jealous,” she goes on casually, ignoring the uneasy expression on Zayn’s face. “She still gets flustered whenever he comes by, gigging with Safaa. I must be the only Malik immune to Liam’s charms.”

Zayn grins when he takes in her easy tone, relaxing some. “How do you do it?” He asks in fake amazement.

“We knew each other during the awkward years,” she jokes back, sneaking a chip off the plate Zayn has in his hands before she walks away. She nudges Liam in the shoulder as she walks by, whispering something he can’t hear but it makes Liam’s cheeks red.

He pads over to Liam, grimacing at the gross feeling of dirt under his wet feet. “Hey,” he says softly, pressing his lips to the back of Liam’s shoulder. “Do I want to know what my sister just said to you?”

“No,” Liam says seriously, but Zayn can hear the grin in his voice.

Zayn hums, keeping his lips pressed to Liam’s shoulder before pulling away, because Niall and Harry are pointing and laughing at them and his face is starting to flush, even though he knows it is just playful banter. He knows Liam would be a better human shield than Harry, so he hides himself behind Liam’s back, fingers tickling along his abdomen so he can keep him close. (And so he can touch, okay? He is fully aware of how transparent he is.)

“What is it?” Liam asks, attempting to look over his shoulder, but Zayn is out of his line of sight. He looks forward instead, chest expanding with a heavy sigh before he says softly, “C’mere.”

Liam puts the spatula down on the side of the grill, pulling Zayn to face him. The kiss isn’t gentle, it is forceful, bruising Zayn’s lips and sucking the breath from his lungs. Liam pulls back with a grin, hand darting out to flick off their best mates. “Want me to go beat them up?”

Zayn shakes his head, eyes widening. He knows Liam won’t, he is too nice, and Zayn hates violence, but there is something about the older man being aggressive that makes him flush and want to drag him back to that monster truck in the parking lot.

“Fine,” Liam sighs. “But I have to watch them make out every time I’m around them and keep quiet. We’re gonna have to up the ante, make it awful for them.”

Zayn smirks, but the breath is swooping out of his lungs as he tries to maintain his composure. “That’ll really show them,” he says weakly.

 

Chlorine sticks to their skin, and the taste of mustard clings to Liam’s tongue and Zayn hates mustard, but he likes the way Liam’s firm body presses against his. He even likes the way the panels of his house bite into his back, where they are hidden by the side of the house, because Zayn couldn’t keep his lips to himself and _Zayn, your porch lights are on, your parents could see_.

“Zayn,” Liam warns sharply as Zayn digs his fingers into Liam’s hips, trying to grind up against them. He feels a bit sloppy, alcohol running through him though he didn’t actually drink that much. He doesn’t think, at least. When Liam had left to play football with some of the other boys, he might have let Harry influence him too much –

“Hm?” Zayn asks distractedly, moving his lips to the column of Liam’s throat. Lights fill his vision as a car pulls into his driveway, but he tightens his grip on Liam, in case he takes that as his cue to leave. His parents’ car was in the driveway when they had pulled in, so it is probably just Doniya. She hadn’t exactly said how comfortable she is with Zayn and Liam earlier, and he doesn’t want to push it.

He wants Liam to stay, to sneak him into his bedroom window and hold him in his too small of a bed, but there is something hilarious about Liam’s bulky body squeezing through his tiny window that he laughs against Liam’s skin before he can ask him to stay.

“How much did you have to drink?” Liam wonders, pressing his fingers under Zayn’s chin until he looks at him. Liam’s eyes search his face and he just smiles lazy, accepting the warmth that covers his skin whenever Liam does that.

Zayn shrugs. “Like three.”

“Like three?” Liam repeats, raising his brows like he doesn’t believe him. His lips quirk up, and Zayn isn’t really sure what is funny.

“Yeah,” Zayn says firmly. He doesn’t actually remember, so it’s not a lie. But he knows it is probably somewhere around that amount. Give or take one, or maybe two. “What about you?”

“Don’t drink,” Liam tells him simply.

He hears Jade’s voice, followed by Doniya’s giggle and Zayn groans. Their time together is over. “Guess I gotta go.”

“Let me help you inside.” Liam curls an arm around his back, pulling him from the side of the house as Doniya shouts, “Payno! You better not be touching my brother inappropriately over there!”

Liam chuckles. “Wouldn’t ever,” he promises. Zayn glares at her sister until she is laughing and unlocking the door to let them inside, finger going to her lips to tell him to be quiet. He wants to say the same to her because he is pretty sure she has already woken up their younger sisters.

Okay, so maybe Zayn is a bit drunk. The hallway spins and he clings onto Liam for balance. He really didn’t mean to get this way, though. Once the sky had darkened, and anyone who would have a problem with underage drinking had left, it just kind of happened.

“Wanna stay?” Zayn mumbles as Liam shuts the door behind them. It is whispered, just in case his parents are awake and somewhere they could hear, even though he hadn’t seen them. Sneaking Liam in had been so much easier than he thought it would be.

“Yes,” Liam says, fingers working at the shirt Zayn is wearing. He keeps distance between them  though and Zayn cups his hips, wanting to pull him closer. “But maybe another night, yeah?”

Zayn nods, letting Liam slip the shirt off his body because his arms feel too heavy. He helps him with the pants too, before leading him to the bed and pressing him into the mattress. Lips linger on his forehead, Liam whispering something soft he can’t hear.

“What was that?” Zayn mumbles, letting his eyes fall closed. He fists Liam’s shirt weakly. He really wishes he would stay.

“Go to sleep,” Liam says, and Zayn’s pretty sure that is _not_ what Liam had just said, but he doesn’t argue. Sleep is tickling at the back of his eyes and he wants to embrace it.

 

It is a few days before Zayn is supposed to make his college decision that his parents bring it up. He has been avoiding it even more than before, even though it keeps him up at night and makes him feel like the only way to get the frustration out of his chest is to pull his hair out. He knows that all of his stress would go away the moment he decides but like, it is just not that easy.

“Sunshine, come into the kitchen,” Tricia requests, poking her head into his room. Both he and Safaa, who is curled by his feet with a book in her hands, look up. “Zayn,” their mom clarifies.

Tricia doesn’t wait for him to follow and he hesitates, exchanging alarmed glances with Safaa. She hadn’t sounded upset, but there was no room for argument in the way she had said it. “I’ll always love you,” he whispers in an ominous tone, running his fingers in his little sister’s hair until she giggles.

His dad sits at the end of the table, focused on the paper in his hands when he comes into the room. Zayn gulps. Both of his parents are there to talk to him? That is never a good sign.

“Beta,” Yaser says, gesturing for him to sit at the table. Zayn does as he is asked, keeping his eyes down. He has no reason to be nervous, right? He hasn’t done anything wrong? Sure, his parents don’t like him partying, but he hasn’t really, just more than he normally does. And Doniya has been there every time he has. And Liam, who he has heard them talk about enough times to know that they love him just as much as the rest of the town does.

And he is eighteen, dammit.

“Tell me what is on your mind, Zayn.”

“What?” Zayn asks, looking up with a confused expression.

“School, beta. Tell me what is troubling you. What is keeping you choosing a school?”

Zayn stares at him. He hadn’t been expecting that, even though it makes sense. They have left him alone about it, which he has been thankful for. But he should have known it would be brought up again eventually. “Oh, I um - it’s nothing, Baba. I just _can’t_ decide.”

Yaser gives him a serious look, but his mom’s hands are gentle where they rest on his shoulders. Zayn loves his father, but he is always a bit more terrifying than his mom in situations like this. “Don’t be afraid to tell us, sunshine.”

She takes the seat beside him, fingers carding through his hair.

“I have a scholarship,” he starts, feeling choked. They don’t exactly have a lot of money, and he only makes so much at the bookshop. And he has saved as much money as he could, but it is barely _anything_. He could have saved up his whole life and still not be able to afford college, it is ridiculous. And don’t even get him started on _textbooks_ -

“We’re aware. And we are very proud of you,” Tricia says as his father nods in agreement. “But?”

He hesitates, eyes flicking between her expectant, but soft eyes and Yaser’s intense ones. “But um, Everton is closer to home, and like, it’s an art school?”

It goes silent for a moment, both of his parents looking at him until the tension in the room breaks with his father smile. Zayn wasn’t expecting that, either.

“It’s settled,” Yaser says with a nod of his head, hands clapping on the table. There is an amused smile on his face that he exchanges with his mother. “Everton it is.”

“What?” Zayn gasps, gaping between the two of them. What just happened? Rewind that -

“We know everything, love,” Tricia informs him simply, pressing a kiss on his forehead. “We know how much you want to go to Everton. And we know how afraid you were to tell us. You just needed a little push in the right direction, didn’t you?”

“Your mother is right,” Yaser adds. “We know everything.”

Zayn gets up hesitantly with a nod, confused and still trying to process what just happened. “Um, I am just gonna –“

“Oh and beta?” Yaser calls before he can make it out of the kitchen. He stills, not sure if he can handle any more of his parents at the moment. “Make sure to invite that Liam of yours over for dinner sometime.”

Zayn runs out of there as fast as he can.

“You’re not dead?” Safaa asks casually, shifting over to make room on the bed.

“I don’t know,” Zayn says ominously, flopping down next to her. He props up on his elbows, giving his little sister a serious look. “Have you ever noticed Mom and Dad are kind of weird?”

Safaa looks at him like he is crazy before looking back at the book she is reading. “That’s where you get it from, Zayn.”

Zayn falls back with a sigh. She is probably right.

The next day, Zayn fills out the forms he needs to fill out and registers for Everton. The price makes him a little uneasy, but he will be able to qualify for loans, maybe, hopefully. Doniya did, and he has her to help him figure out all of these things. Liam could probably help too, but Zayn is pretty sure he had a full scholarship.

It is overwhelming and a bit exciting when he gets his own email, his own student account. Zayn Malik, officially a college student. His parents don’t throw him a celebration or anything, but they make him his favorite dinner that night and tease him for making everything so difficult for himself. It is like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, even if there are new ones starting to take it’s place.

**July**

Sunburn covers his back, wrapping around his shoulders from spending the day at the beach. It stings where Liam presses his fingers in, nails biting against the sore flesh, but he holds in the hiss on his tongue because he _needs_ Liam’s touch. The scent of ocean still lingers on their skin, and he feels as if he is still floating on the waves.

The sound jolts down the length of his spine. It is low and desperate, rumbling out of Liam’s chest. He works his hand slowly over Liam’s length, slick with spit and precome. The wet sound is obscene mixed with Liam’s grunts of approval, dirty whispered words of how _good_ Zayn is for him.

“Gotta be quiet, your parents are here,” Zayn murmurs, scratching his teeth against his lower stomach, where the skin dips and forms that _V_ that is so beautiful to look at. His skin is paler here, hidden from the sun by those red swimming trunks Zayn tore off the moment they were through Liam’s bedroom door.

Liam’s mouth falls open as if he is going to laugh but he moans again instead. Sweat pools on his chest, between the edges of muscle, skin reddened from the sun and from Zayn, his mouth, his fingertips. “Haven’t heard that in a while,” he breathes out sharply, hips canting towards him.

Zayn chuckles before leaning his head back down. He pulls the foreskin back, tongue teasing at the slit until Liam is whining, fingers pressing into his scalp to push him down. Zayn groans around him. He could do this all day, savor the heady scent of Liam, listen to the pants above him, feel the thick of cock against his tongue. _Liam’s_ cock specifically, which stretches his lips until they are almost as sore as his throat.

He relaxes his jaw as Liam thrusts against his tongue, cock sliding to the back of his throat. His eyes clench shut, fingers curling around Liam’s hips to urge him on.

“Okay,” Liam huffs out, fingers tightening in his hair before he speeds up the movement of his hips. “ _Fuck_ \- look at you. Just takin’ it. So good, babe.” Zayn moans in return, eyes flitting open to look up at him.

Liam looks blissed out with heavy lidded eyes, a lip trapped between his teeth like he is trying to be quiet but he can’t. He breathes sharply, a whine stuck in his throat. His gaze falls to Zayn, thumbs wiping the tears that are starting to slip out of the corner of his eyes.

“Okay?” he asks, slowing his thrusts. Zayn digs his fingers in, pulling him back.

His jaw aches, throat sore, but it is worth it when Liam’s hips stutters, fingers digging in almost painfully where they hold Zayn’s head down. He feels the way Liam’s cock pulses against his tongue as the other man makes a wrecked sound as he comes. Zayn wants to put that sound on repeat and play it over and over.

“Holy shit,” Liam groans when Zayn pulls off, pumping out the rest of his orgasm. Zayn pants, lips tilted up as Liam’s fingers trace the lines of his face. They wipe along the tears pooling under his eyes, along the blush in his cheeks, tracing his swollen lips. He presses a thumb against the lower until Zayn parts them. He has this dark look in his eyes, like it turns him on that Zayn’s on his knees with lips parted and ready, willing to do whatever it is Liam needs him to do. “C’mere.”

Liam’s arms wrap around his back as he trembles, mouth chasing Zayn’s, and it is erotic the way he licks into Zayn’s mouth like he is trying to savor the taste of himself. Zayn ruts shamelessly against him, grinding his cock against his hip. He may love getting Liam off, but he really needs to himself.

Liam presses him down to the bed with ease, fingers curling around his wrists to press them above his head. His lips are gentle, gliding against his jaw, along his throat. It is such a contrast to a second ago, when Liam was brutal against his throat, but he isn’t complaining. Both sides of Liam make him feel _desperate_.

“Wanna come to my apartment with me this weekend? Get some real alone time?”

He wraps a hand around Zayn before he can respond, making him moan in relief instead. He throbs against Liam’s palm, already so close. The sheets rub uncomfortably against his sunburn and he’ll regret it later, but right now he could care less.

“Since you can’t be quiet,” Liam scolds gently against his throat, dragging his lips along Zayn’s collar bone.

“The one in Danforth?” Zayn says between breaths. He can’t do this _casual conversation while getting off_ thing as well as Liam can.

Liam only hums, pumping him faster until he is arching against the hard press of Liam’s body, come streaking down his fingers with a gasp that Liam’s parents definitely heard.

“So yeah?” Liam says, pressing his smile against Zayn’s lips. His sticky fingers slide up Zayn’s torso and Zayn makes a face of disgust. He likes this side too, goofy Liam.

He lies there, letting out heavy breaths, staring up at the ceiling until his body relaxes enough to actually have a conversation. Liam is patient, humming softly as he moves his lips over Zayn’s chest.

“You don’t normally go on the weekends,” Zayn states, sitting up to grab the shirt lying on the floor, still trying to maintain control of his breathing. The shirt is one of Liam’s, one that Zayn has been wearing for the last week when Liam insisted he take it home. (There is something about this guy and making Zayn wear his clothes that should be weird but instead it makes him feel warm.)

“I have to this time,” he explains, fingers lightly trailing up the exposed skin of Zayn’s back where it is not as sunburned. “I have to take care of something for Sophia, and meet with my coach.”

“And you want me to come?”

“Always do,” Liam jokes. Zayn tries to clean him off, but Liam is pulling him down, now lying on his back, peppering kisses along his cheeks and being difficult. “So what do you say?”

“Can’t say no to you,” Zayn murmurs. He pushes up on his palms. It could be a good thing, anyway. Since Everton is right next to Danforth, he can explore the area if they have time. He still hasn’t told Liam about that yet. He is nervous that Liam will think he’s expecting something from him if he tells him about it. Like maybe he wants this to be more than a summer thing. “But I do have to go, unfortunately. Shift starts in an hour.”

“Fine,” Liam sighs like a petulant child. Sometimes Zayn forgets Liam is more of an adult than he is. Like, he is an _adult_ adult, and Zayn is just technically an adult because of his age.

By the time he manages to leave, he is fifteen minutes late, running in with an apologetic smile to Julian, his boss, who just sighs and shakes his head, waving at Liam through the large windows at the front of the shop.

 

Zayn is not quite sure why he is nervous. He’s just sat in Liam’s car, listening to Liam hum along to the music that’s playing softly on the radio. He has come to learn Liam is a fan of old RnB. Sometimes the peppier ones, and sometimes the slow, tug at your heart kind. (Or make you want to tug on your cock kind.)

It’s quite a long drive. It is insane to him that Liam does it every week. They have only been driving for like twenty minutes and Zayn is already feeling closed in and ready to get out of the truck. The long drive would explain why Liam keeps it so clean, because it probably gets cramped if there are too many things in here.

“Okay?” Liam asks, reaching over to grab Zayn’s hand. He is always doing that, asking him if he is doing alright. _I’ve been searching for someone to satisfy my every need,_ plays on the radio and Liam whispers along.

“Mhm,” Zayn assures. “I can’t believe you drive this every week. Must be expensive?”

Liam shrugs, thumb rubbing soothing circles against the back of his hand. Zayn is not sure how safe it is, since he is driving, but he looks relaxed with one hand on the steering wheel and his eyes stay planted on the road so maybe it is okay. He keeps his grip loose in case he needs to pull away. “A bit. It’s important y’know, so-“

“For Sophia?” Zayn interrupts, before he can stop himself. _So I slowly came to see, all of the things that you were made of -_

Liam looks at him quickly before he nods, fingers squeezing tightly around Zayn’s. “Yeah, for Sophia.”

“Is that why you picked Danforth?”

They haven’t talked about it, why Liam chose a college that was a closer to home, though Zayn has slowly come to guess why over the last two months.

He remembers it clearly, when Sophia had her accident. He woke up to Doniya screaming in the middle of the night, begging her parents for the car so she could get to the hospital. It had been in the news for weeks. He doesn’t know the details of the accident, other than she had been drunk with her boyfriend, and hit her head severely enough to cause serious brain damage. And that her family had moved to Danforth, closer to the medical center that specialized in brain injuries the fall semester of her senior year.

“You mean why I didn’t choose a D1 school?” It is not harsh, but defensive, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“Well, yeah, I guess,” Zayn admits. Bradford had erupted when _Liam Payne_ , expected to go all the way, chose a division two college instead of the division ones that were desperately trying to convince him to play for their school. “I mean, I don’t care about that part, but it’s part of your decision, isn’t it?”

Liam nods, relaxing some. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I just –“ He pauses, fingers clenching around the steering wheel before he begins again. “There was a lot of attention on what school I was choosing? And not that much on Sophia? Even in like, one interview I said I chose my school to be close to Sophia. They tried to hem it up to be a _girl_ ruining my future, like she had intended to slam her head into cement for the sole purpose of me not going to D1.”

Zayn flinches at Liam’s cold tone. It is understandable just – uncharacteristic. He kind of hates it. He doesn’t say anything because he is pretty sure if he did Liam wouldn’t hear. He is focused on the road, but his fingers go slack in Zayn’s. _Now I can be faithful, I can be your all and all -_

“It was stupid, yeah,” Liam says thickly, distantly like he is remembering. “They got too drunk. It was stupid.” He huffs out a harsh breath, pulling his eyes away from the road to look at Zayn for just a moment. _And give you good lovin’ through the summertime, winter, spring, and fall –_

“I don’t really want to talk about it anymore, if that’s okay?”

Zayn nods quickly. “Yeah, no problem.” He looks out the car window, trying to ignore how awful the tense air feels now.

“Thanks,” Liam says, sliding their fingers back together, humming to the last few beats of the song as it fades into the next.

“Maybe we can turn a little something happier on,” he suggests as Lauryn Hill’s voice fills the car.

Liam grins, and Zayn wants to breathe out in relief. “Even if it’s sad, this song is a classic, Zayn. I don’t think anyone actually gets sad listening to it.”

Zayn snorts, rolling his eyes. “Okay, okay, Leeyum.”

Liam changes the song anyway, flipping through his iPod even though Zayn scolds him for it, because he is driving and it is _dangerous._ “How about this?” Liam says, ignoring him before locking the phone and handing it back to him.

Zayn hears the start of Usher’s _Nice & Slow_ and he groans, shooting Liam a look.

Liam’s apartment is how Zayn imagined it to be. _Neat._ He lives with Andy and Niall, apparently. (And he is probably going to yell at Harry for not telling him that Niall lived with Liam. There was no way he didn’t know. And it is not really important, but Harry and Niall have been whatever they are for like a year now, and Harry was well aware of his crush on Liam during that time.)

He doesn’t see the other rooms because they are locked, but Liam’s room is huge. His bed is fitted against the wall, a bookshelf beside it filled with trophies and awards and only one book. He has jerseys tacked to the wall and shoes lined at the bottom. Zayn opens the closet, besides the desk, just curious to see if it is as neat in there.

It is, and he should have expected it. He has dress shirts pressed and hung up in order of color, shiny shoes placed along the ground. There are a few boxes at the top, but even those are stacked neatly together.

“While I’m here, I’m going to mess this place up,” Zayn tells him with a sigh, fingers grazing over one of the black dress shirts. He really hopes he gets to see Liam in that.

Liam wraps his arms around his waist from behind, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Mm, I sure hope you do. But first I’m going to take you to see Sophia. Is that okay? I told her parents we would be there soon.”

Zayn turns, looking at the hands he places on Liam’s chest instead of Liam. “You want me to come?” he asks softly.

Liam’s finger grazes the bottom of his chin. He doesn’t even have to press it upwards any longer. Zayn’s chin automatically tilts up as soon as Liam touches him there. “Yeah, if that’s okay? It might be a bit overwhelming, so you don’t have to. But I would like it if you did.”

As if he could say no to that. Liam has those stupid puppy eyes working against him again. “Why?”

Liam shrugs, his eyes brightening like something is funny. “Sophia might have asked me to bring you along.”

“Oh?” Zayn smirks, sliding his hands up to curl around Liam’s neck. Liam nuzzles against his jaw, beard scratching against his skin. “Talk about me, do you?”

Liam’s laugh vibrates against his throat where his lips are pressed. “I might have mentioned you once.”

He moves his lips gently against Zayn’s neck, like he can feel how uneven his pulse is against his skin and is trying to calm him down. He does feel overwhelmed, like he is meeting Liam’s parents or something. (Which, he already has but – it is just _different_.)

Sophia is so important to him he changed his future plans around to be near her. Doniya too. And he is meeting her for the first time since before her accident. He is a bit nervous, and he wants to be mad that Liam didn’t give him any warning but he can’t be.

Liam’s lips get to his own, hovering there for a moment. “You can say no. Just chill out here until I get back?”

Zayn shakes his head. “No, I’ll go. But I’m going to need to borrow some of your clothes.” He looks down at the worn shirt he is wearing. There are holes along the bottom because he has had it for forever, and he had wanted to be comfortable during the long drive to Liam’s apartment. 

Liam smirks, eyes lighting up. “I guess that’s fine,” he says but he sighs as if it isn’t.

Zayn ends up with a gray t-shirt with Danforth printed in bold letters across the front. It is loose, of course, but the word _Payne_ is printed along the back and that makes his lips twist into a smile that hurts his cheeks every time he looks at it.

Liam keeps their fingers linked as he knocks on the front door of a small, one story house. It is small but cozy looking, with flower patterned curtains and a pot in each window. Liam opens the door before anyone can answer it, saying, “It’s Liam,” before walking in.

A gentle looking woman with wrinkles etched around her face steps into the entrance way, eyes lighting up when they spot Liam. She presses a kiss to his cheek. “How are you Liam?”

She smiles warmly at Zayn, holding her hand out. He remembers her from when she used to bring Sophia over, but he doesn’t remember her looking so old. “Hello Zayn, dear. It is good to see you again.”

“You too, ma’m.”

“Sophia doesn’t know you two are coming, so make sure you knock before you go in. She is going to be so delighted.”

Liam nods, squeezing Zayn’s fingers as he leads them to the back of the house. Liam looks as comfortable as if they are in his own house, and Zayn wishes he felt the same.

Liam knocks gently on the door they stop in front of and there is a muffled sound that Liam takes as a go ahead to open the door. It is quite a large room, like it had been intended to be for a family room but was made into a bedroom instead. There is a large bed in the corner with a bar along the side like handicap stalls in bathrooms have except this one has something soft looking wrapped around each bar, across from a desk with a TV propped against it. Sophia sits in a plush lazy boy, her wheelchair next to it.

She looks the same as Zayn remembers, except her hair has grown quite longer than the cropped style she used to wear, and she is older. She has an unfocused look on her face that brightens when her eyes pass over them.

Her words are thick and strangled sounding, but it is distinctly happy when she says, “Liam.”

“Soph,” Liam greets, dropping Zayn’s hand to kneel in front of her. “How are you?”

Sophia just nods, fingers stretching out like she is going to reach for him but they stay where the rest on the arms of the couch. She isn’t facing the television, but it is on, playing a scene Zayn recognizes from Dirty Dancing quietly.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Liam goes on. “I brought Zayn with me, like you asked. Do you remember?”

Zayn puts up a hand to wave when Sophia looks at him, nodding again. Her lips twist into something resembling a smile. Her eyes flit back to Liam and her lips part like she is going to say something.

Zayn admires the genuine patience on Liam’s face as she struggles with her words, her face twisting into frustration before she manages to get them out. “Doniya is coming?”

“No, but soon,” Liam promises, pushing up to press his lips to the bangs wisping across her forehead. “I have to talk to Mom real quick about your surgery, but I’ll be right back, okay? Keep Zayn company? He’s a bit nervous.”

Liam gives Zayn a reassuring squeeze of the hip as he passes by him to leave and Zayn stands there awkwardly for a moment before closing the space between him and Sophia. He is not sure what to do, where to sit or if he looks funny just standing there. He ends up pulling the chair from the desk to sit beside her.

“Hi Sophia,” he says gently. Her lips are slack, even when the corners of them twitch upwards. He feels awful for being nervous, for feeling uncomfortable and he hopes none of that is obvious on his face. He is going to yell at Liam for telling her. “It is nice seeing you again.”

“Liam,” she starts, watching Zayn. “Liam’s Zayn?”

Zayn smiles. “Yeah, kind of. Does he talk about me?”

She laughs, and it relaxes him some. It is quite infectious, like Liam’s. “All,” she chuckles, fingers pressing down into the material of the couch. “All the time.”

“I hope he says good things about me,” Zayn chuckles back.

Sophia nods her head adamantly. “Oh yeah,” she says. “Zayn’s beautiful.”

It sounds mechanical, like she is repeating something she heard and Zayn laughs, though there is warmth rushing to his face and he is choking on the sound.

“Hey,” Liam scolds gently, a fake pout on his face where he leans in the door way. Zayn hadn’t even heard him come back into the room. “Don’t tell him my secrets.”

Sophia giggles, her hand reaching up like she is going to cover her mouth. “But Liam, Zayn’s beautiful.”

He walks over, tucking her hand back down on the arm of the chair before he tickles her chin like he so often does to Zayn. “He is,” he hums in agreement. The corner of his eyes crinkle when he teases, “Not as beautiful as you, though.”

Her chin tilts into her shoulder as she giggles shyly.

They stay with her for a few more hours, until it is dark outside and Mrs. Smith is coming in to get Sophia ready for bed. Liam promises to see her soon, and Zayn promises too even though he doesn’t know if Liam will bring him back. It just feels like the right thing to say because he wants Liam to.

“She doesn’t use the wheelchair?” Zayn asks as they leave, having watched Mrs. Smith help Sophia stand and walk to her bed.

“Sometimes,” Liam answers. “She mostly has difficulties with fine motor skills, like using her fingers and stuff like that. But sometimes like, she can’t start walking or sometimes she can’t keep walking, so they have it just in case.”

“Oh,” Zayn says, opening the car door and jumping inside. Liam is going to have to install a ladder or something, because his finger grazes the handle bar on the ceiling for support and he stumbles back some before trying again and successfully pulling himself inside. Liam doesn’t seem to notice.  

“Yeah. Most of the damage was some part of her brain that controls that stuff. Most of her memory is fine, and she understands things just fine too.” Liam doesn’t look at him as he talks, tugging on the steering wheel to turn out of the driveway. “I don’t really get brain stuff, so I’m not really sure how to explain it.”

“It’s okay,” Zayn tells him.

Liam gnaws at his bottom lip, going quiet as they drive the short distance back to his apartment. Questions rattle around in Zayn’s head but he doesn’t ask. He isn’t sure which ones would sound rude out loud, or which ones would push Liam into talking about something he doesn’t want to talk about.

“You can ask,” Liam says, as he offers Zayn a hand to help him out of the truck. “I can see the questions on your face.”

Zayn stays quiet, following behind Liam into the apartment building. Liam looks at him expectantly a few times before sighing, and unlocking the front door. “Do you want to know why I go to see her? Or what made me decide to be near her even though that impacted my football career?”

Zayn nods. He hadn’t really answered him earlier, when he had brought it up during the car ride here.

Liam pads through the apartment, tugging at the collar of his shirt to take it off. Zayn doesn’t look, knows he needs to stay focused on Liam in a less distracting way. “I’m going to put on sweatpants. I might cry and I rather not do that in jeans.”

Something tugs at Zayn’s chest, pulling him fast to catch up with Liam, grabbing his wrist to get his attention. He is digging in one of his drawers, tugging out a pair of dark green sweatpants. “We don’t –“ He starts, worrying at his bottom lip. “Liam, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“I would like to,” Liam insists, starting on the button of his jeans. “I can talk about it fine. It’s just, I dunno, seeing how good you were with her kind of made me –“ He waves a hand at his bare chest, lips quirking up. “Get this stupid warm feeling in my chest.”

It hurts to think there is a reason that Liam would have expected him to treat her badly. He had felt rude for being scared of meeting her, but he couldn’t help the pounding in his chest. “Are you sure?”

Liam nods, slipping on the sweatpants. He presses his lips to Zayn’s forehead. “I’m going to make some coffee, if you want to change into something comfortable too.” He tugs at the shirt Zayn is wearing, a glint of a smile still on his lips. “Keep the shirt on though?”

Zayn steals a pair of Liam’s sweatpants once he is gone from the bedroom, even though he has packed a pair of his own. These ones are softer, even if they hang off his hips with the string drawn as tightly as it can go. Luckily, at least, they are about the same height, so he doesn’t need to roll the bottoms.

Liam is laid out on the couch, back against one of the arms and the smell of coffee filling the apartment slowly. He maneuvers Zayn to sit between his legs, pulling him down so his back rests against his chest. Zayn slides their fingers together, letting them rest on his lower abdomen.

“The week after Sophia’s accident, our first game, was the first time I’ve lost a game in all of my high school career,” Liam starts. “I don’t know if you remember. The town was pretty upset about it.”

“I don’t really,” he admits.

It goes quiet again and Zayn waits patiently, listening to the soft sounds of Liam’s breathing underneath the movie playing from the television that Liam must have put on while Zayn had been changing.

“Well,” Liam clears his throat. “I visited Sophia when she was still in the hospital and she kept saying sorry, over and over, blaming herself for making us lose. She didn’t get that I didn’t care, y’know? Like, that is such an impossible concept for me to even try to consider.”

“Why?” Zayn prompts, voice quiet in case Liam doesn’t want to be interrupted. “Why did she apologize then?”

Liam’s arms squeeze around him, tugging him closer so he can scrape his lips along Zayn’s hairline. It is as if Liam is trying to comfort him, even though the positions should be reversed.

“I don’t know much about the accident, just what Soph could tell me. She doesn’t remember falling, she just remembers being on the stairs to the bleachers,” Liam goes on, sounding distant now. His lips stay against Zayn’s hair, fingers squeezing his every now and then. “But she remembers being drunk, y’know? And I used to hate how much she partied, all of us did. We blamed her boyfriend, thought he was a bad influence. Sophia and all of us used to fight about it, a lot. She thought we were going to be mad, abandon her, because she didn’t listen to us before and then she got hurt.”

Liam’s voice cracks and Zayn lets go of his hands, repositioning himself so they are facing each other.  He hooks Liam’s thighs around his waist, placing his own behind Liam’s back. Liam grins, but his eyes are watery. He reaches out to touch Zayn’s chin like that small gesture is something that comforts him.

“I didn’t know if she would understand we weren’t abandoning her when we went to college. Her boyfriend did, pulled out of school by his parents and taken across the country after the accident.” He shakes his head, jaw clenching for a moment before continuing. “I didn’t know how much she understood at the time, didn’t understand the concept of _brain injury_. So I wasn’t willing to risk having her think we blamed her and that is why we left.”

“So you went to Danforth,” Zayn clarifies. “So she wouldn’t think you were abandoning her?” Liam nods. “Doniya too?”

Liam nods again. “I told her, and she told me she was coming with. Jade had already gotten in, real smart you know, and Danielle doesn’t go to school but you know she moved in with your sister, anyway. The five of us were always together. We wanted to keep it that way as much as we could. Sophia and I have just always been the closest.”

Zayn bites on his tongue to not let out the sob building in his chest. He doesn’t need Liam trying to comfort him, he needs to comfort Liam. He takes Liam’s hands into his own again, pressing his lips to his knuckles as Liam goes on about how hard it was seeing her like that at first.

Liam talks about how hard it was to talk to anyone about his decision, how his parents were angry and for months everyone reminded him of how disappointed they were. How he didn’t care about losing a game, because that was so insignificant compared to Sophia being okay or not and no one seemed to understand that.

“That is why I stayed up here,” Liam says, sliding himself into Zayn’s lap. He presses his lips gently to the corner of Zayn’s mouth. “Instead of going home. I didn’t want to hear it anymore because I don’t regret my decision.”

“Does it upset you though, sometimes?” Zayn asks, sliding his hands along the dip in Liam’s back. He feels tiny under Liam’s body like this and he pulls them back, so Liam is bracing his forearms on either side of Zayn’s head.

“Yeah sure,” he says with a shrug. “But we still get scouts at the games so like, I dunno, my dream isn’t completely impossible. I never hyped myself up as much as everyone else. I always planned on doing something basic like work at an office, or something. It would be cool as fuck to be pro, but I’m not like, counting on it. I never did.”

Zayn nods in understanding, reaching to drag his fingers through the shorter hairs at the back of Liam’s head.

“Will you come to one?” Liam says softly, eyes widening in that vulnerable way only he can perfect. “Like one of my games?”

“’Course.”

“I don’t care if I have to drive all the way back home to pick you up. I just want you to be there.”

Zayn wants to tell him he doesn’t have to worry about it because he will be in Danforth when the time comes, but Liam’s words make his chest tight and his stomach twist in a good way, and he can’t get the words out. He can only look up at Liam, gauge how genuine his words are.

It seems like they are, and that makes the tightness from his chest travel to his throat.

He squeezes his arms around the bigger man, dragging him down so their lips can meet. Liam pulls back after only a moment though, leaving Zayn frowning underneath.

“And wear one of my jerseys?”

“When are you going to admit to me that me wearing your clothes is a fetish of yours?” Zayn asks pointedly, trying not to smile so fondly but it doesn’t work.

“Is that a problem?” Liam quirks up an eyebrow. The pain that had been on his face is no longer there, replaced with teasing and mischief. Maybe this is Liam’s way of asking for the distraction Zayn had been trying to make sure he didn’t give him too soon.

“Definitely not,” Zayn says weakly, pulling Liam back down.

“Then it might be a fetish of mine,” Liam admits with a grin. His hands ruck up the shirt he is wearing, fingers slipping along Zayn’s exposed skin. “It’s just –“ His lips latch onto the juncture of Zayn’s neck and he sucks gently until he feels a bruise forming there. “It makes you look like you’re mine.”

He huffs out a laugh, lips smacking shut before he accidentally tells Liam that he in fact, _Liam’s._

**August**

Zayn goes to Danforth with Liam to see Sophia a few more times throughout the summer, when he is not scheduled to work on the days Liam goes. They walk through the city streets during the nights they are there, exploring the corners of Danforth. Zayn is not much of a city person, too used to his small town, but he thinks he is falling in love with this one. It is not congested, not really a city like what you think of when you hear the word. There are no sky scrapers and squeezing through sidewalks, rushing to work or school because the roads are too busy to drive on.

And he starts to fall in love with the beaches too, back home. Even though he has never preferred them, he thinks he now craves the smell of salt water, the acrid smell of smoke of the fire and warm sand between his toes with a warm body pressed to his back, one that smells like sharp colognes and the bakery scented candles that always fill the Payne house.

Niall’s laugh fills the air, louder than the crackling of the campfire and the girls trying to talk over him. Harry looks at him like the source of all light is stored in his ass, and maybe it is, because when he tells a story – everything about him is bright. Zayn has fallen a bit in love with the two of them as well, the way Niall always looks back at Harry like he thinks the same about the other boy too.

And Liam, though the words only warm through his chest and not past his tongue. Liam’s lips scrape across the curve of his neck, pressing down when he chuckles softly at something Niall is saying, or the fond glare he gets from Doniya whenever he nudges Zayn’s chin so he can tilt his head more to the side and explore the skin there with his lips.

He doesn’t say those words out loud even though they are at the tip of his tongue, favoring closing his eyes and focusing on the steady rhythm of Liam’s breathing, his heartbeat thumping against his back through the thin layer of their clothes instead. There are only a few weeks left of summer, even less with Liam, who has to go back two weeks early for football, and he doesn’t want to ruin the time he has left. 

“Wanna go to the tent now?” Liam chuckles, nipping gently at Zayn’s ear. They set tents up all along the beach when they first got here, and they will have to wake up early to take them down before the beach traffic starts as people try to catch the last of the summer sun, but Zayn doesn’t mind.

“Soon,” Zayn promises, turning his head to look at Liam. Liam’s palm slides across his cheeks, thumb brushing across the skin that is starting to peel from too much exposure to the sun. There is a glint of excitement in his eyes that he doesn’t understand, but it is warmer than the fire that reflects off his skin.

“What is it?” Zayn asks, his own lips twitching up. Liam just shakes his head, leaning forward to slot their lips together. He doesn’t protest, even though he wants to know what’s on Liam’s mind, just as badly as he wants to tell the older man what is on his.

A marshmallow bounces off his head and he pulls back, laughing as he catches Doniya’s smirk. “Could you guys keep your hands off of each other for like five seconds? We’re having a party here.”

Liam’s eyes clench shut as he tilts his head back, whining, “But Doniya, where’s the fun in that?”

“It won’t be fun when I make you cry,” she says, lack of any humor in her voice. “Remember what I told you? I will –“

“Okay, okay,” Liam says quickly, eyes widening in alarm. He presses the side of his head to Zayn’s, whispering, “She’s scary, Zayn.”

Zayn chuckles, sliding his arms over Liam’s to keep him close. She is, but Zayn feels the same way, every time Andy’s fingers threaten to slip under the hem of her shirt. He feels protective, and a bit grossed out. He gets it.

“I’m sure you could take her,” Zayn assures.

“And get on your bad side? No thanks.”

Calm settles around them as their voices hush, Niall no longer speaking as Harry’s lips find his and tug him away from some story about _sophomore year_ and _Liam_ and _the mascot suit_.

“Wanna go to the tent now?” Zayn murmurs, leaning his head back on Liam’s shoulder and turning so he can whisper the words against his cheek. Liam hums his response, releasing the hold he has on Zayn to let him up.

They walk slowly back, fingers linked together and eyes following their toes. “Summer is almost over,” Liam states. “Went by fast, didn’t it?”

Zayn nods, looking away from his feet. “It always does.”

“Do you normally meet hot football players every summer?”

“I’ve never met a hot one before,” Zayn jokes, pulling on Liam’s arm so can wrap it around his waist. Liam snorts, lips pressing against his temple.

“Are you sure about that?”

“No,” Zayn admits with a sigh. “Niall is quite good looking–“

The words are barely out of his mouth before Liam is letting him go to lift him up, throwing him across a shoulder before he takes off in a jog. Zayn hides his giggles against the man’s back, holding onto him for dear life as he bounces.

“I’m going to tell Harry you said that,” Liam threatens, the flat of his hand coming down on the curve of Zayn’s ass gently. It is playful, but Zayn always goes from calm to _holy shit_ real quick when it comes to the other man.

“He’ll kill me,” Zayn says, a swoop in his stomach as Liam lets him down without any warning. There are hands on his hips before he can stumble backwards, his head rushing from being turned right side up again.

“I will protect you,” Liam promises. “If you admit that I’m hot.”

Zayn sighs, patting his chest. “Cockiness is quite unbecoming, Liam, babe.” He turns and zips open the tent before Liam can respond, but he hears him laughing behind him.

“Is it being cocky if it’s true?” Liam asks, zipping the tent back up, and shutting out the light from the moon with it.

Zayn is not quite sure he understands why people like camping so much, because the tent is too small, barely fitting the two of them and the duffel bag they brought. And he can’t stand, so he lies down on his side, trying to find Liam in the dark.

“Yeah, it is,” he responds. “But everyone has their flaws.”

Liam settles beside him, curling on his side so they are facing each other. “I guess it could be worse. I could be possessive or something.”

Zayn bites his lip at the thought. So far, it hasn’t really been a flaw in his eyes.

“Are you going to tell me now?” Zayn whispers. It is quiet around them, except for the distant sound of someone’s snoring. “Tell me what you looked so excited about?”

Liam grins, or at least he thinks so. There is only a glow of light in the tent from the moon behind his head. Liam leans over him, an elbow keeping him up on the other side of Zayn’s head.

He leans close enough that Zayn can feel his breath slide over his lips. Liam is trying to distract him, trying to see if Zayn has enough control to keep from trying to taste the soda on his tongue. “I don’t want this to be a summer thing,” Liam starts, voice soft. His fingers card through the hair at the side of Zayn’s head, just a gentle pressure.

Zayn is glad that it is dark, because he doesn’t want Liam to be offended by the strangled look on his face. It’s just, that is not what he had been expecting. That is the farthest thing from anything he had been expecting. Liam telling him something along the lines of not wanting to see each other once school starts is closer to what he had been thinking, maybe.

“I’m a bit possessive,” Liam says sheepishly. “If you hadn’t noticed. I want you to officially be mine, like – sorry that sounds awful. But you know what I mean, right?”

Zayn nods, forgetting Liam can’t see him. “Yes,” he chokes out. He likes that Liam is possessive, loves that Liam always makes those marks with his mouth where everyone can see, how he always feels the need to have Zayn wear his clothes. “Official as in like, boyfriends?”

Fourteen, again. Desperate just for the fit boy with the bulgy arms and round cheeks, curly hair framing his face just to take one glance at him -

Liam chuckles, but it’s not to make fun of him. It sounds more like a laugh of relief. “Yeah, or whatever.”

Zayn snorts, finally moving his hands to tug Liam forward until his body is lined over the top of his own. “I mean, that sounds okay.”

He can feel Liam’s smile when it presses against his own. He cups the back of Liam’s head, loose fingers along his scalp letting him guide the kiss until he pulls back, both of their breathing a bit more labored.

“That’s why you didn’t tell me, right?” Liam asks. “You didn’t think I’d like that you were going to be in Danforth too?”

Zayn stills, mouth falling open. Liam just chuckles again, lips pressing against his cheek bone. “Doniya told me,” he explains. “The part about you going to Danforth. Not the other stuff. That’s just a, um, guess?”

“I just,” Zayn hesitates, not sure how to explain himself. “Like I didn’t want you to think I expected anything more, if you didn’t want anything more.”

Liam’s lips hover over his, voice breathy and low when he assures, “I want something more.”

Liam’s tongue is insistent on the seam of his lips, coaxing it open with no resistance from Zayn. He wants to know what _more_ entails, but right now he is satisfied with the movement of his hips, slow against his own until his legs are parting, wrapping around Liam’s waist.

Liam’s fingers are still gentle, but they tug at the hair there until Zayn is groaning low in his throat. Zayn’s own fingers drag the thin material of Liam’s tank top up his back, nails scratching at the skin there until Liam is leaning back, pulling the tank top off and tossing it to somewhere in the tent. He really wishes there was more light, because Liam is always so beautiful to look at –

Liam doesn’t return his lips to Zayn’s, but to Zayn’s throat, slowly rolling his tongue over the skin there, over old marks that have just started to fade. His fingers push up Zayn’s t-shirt until they are at his elbows, and Liam’s lips return to his skin, moving over the curve of the muscles starting to develop along his chest – flicking over the pebble of nipple on his right until Zayn shudders, teeth snatching his bottom lip to keep any sounds in.

Arousal curls in his stomach, fingers clinging to Liam’s back as he drags his tongue lower, spending time on his navel before fingers curl around the waistband of his joggers. They are just teasing, not tugging them down like Zayn wants, even when he presses his hips up to urge Liam on. The only thing he gets is a chuckle in response.

“So will you?” Liam murmurs, moving his lips along the waist band. He tugs it down some, just enough that Liam’s lips can move across the start of the coarse hair there.

“What?” Zayn asks, breathlessly.

“Be mine,” Liam hums, nipping at his hip bone. The mark he leaves there hurts when he bites his teeth down, sucking the skin harshly. Zayn arches into it, nails digging into Liam’s skin –

“Yeah,” Zayn huffs out. “Already am.” Have been, for years. He just didn’t truly realize it.

The material slips past his hips, warm lips moving down his legs in its chase. Fingers curl around his ankle once the joggers and briefs are gone, and Liam is gentle, slow with the way he moves his lips back up Zayn’s legs, stopping at the start of the soft skin of his inner thigh –

“Liam,” Zayn says desperately. He can feel how heavy his cock is laying on the low of his abdomen, the way it pulses, spitting out precome. Liam keeps his lips on Zayn’s thigh, moving up to the junction of his thigh and hip, the soft of his cheek sliding against Zayn’s cock –

“Mine?” Liam says again, and Zayn can’t see what he is doing, he just knows he isn’t touching him anymore.

“Yeah. Mine?” Zayn repeats breathlessly.

A hand curls around him, slick and soft as he slicks the precome down the length of him. “Yeah, yours,” Liam whispers. He works Zayn over slowly, sucking marks along his hips. His fist is too loose, he could come like this but it would take forever.

Liam’s hand disappears again, lips pressing kisses along the length of him. He is a tease – Zayn is in love with a fucking tease – “Can I?”

Zayn is not sure what he’s asking, Liam’s blown him before – and he is pretty sure he had made it pretty clear that Liam could do that anytime he wants. But then Liam is sliding a slick finger along the curve of his ass and – _oh._

“Fuck, Liam. Yeah,” he says, more desperately than he had hoped for. Later, he will apologize to Harry and Niall, if they are in the tent they set up beside them yet, for the moan he lets out when Liam’s finger nudges his hole. Liam’s gentle with him, always so gentle though he looks like he is made to fucking wreck him, as he slowly works his finger in.

It stings, but Liam’s tongue is rolling along the thick vein at the underside of his cock, distracting him from the discomfort. Liam thrusts the finger in until there is no resistance; until Zayn is telling him he is ready for another because he realizes Liam’s waiting for it.

The second digit hurts, and he places a palm over his lips to keep the sound muffled on his tongue so Liam won’t stop. This he has never done before, not even to himself but he has gotten off enough times just thinking about it –

“Zayn,” Liam says roughly, fingers still scissoring and stretching him. He groans low, teeth nipping at his thigh. “You’re really loud.”

He sounds pained, and Zayn is embarrassed. He hadn’t even realized the sounds were slipping past his lips despite his efforts to keep them hidden. He reaches out, hand scrambling for his phone.

He gets Liam’s instead, holding it above his face as he taps in Liam’s passcode. Liam stops the movement of his fingers, and Zayn knows he is looking up at him but he is too flushed and nervous to look back down at him, so he hits shuffle in Liam’s music and quickly hits the lock button so the light will disappear.

 _There’s nothin’ that I’d rather do, then spend this time with you. So why don’t we just chill_ –

“Good choice,” Liam says, a laugh in his voice before his fingers start moving again. Zayn is not really sure it is if they are trying to make it so no one knows what they are doing, but he doesn’t care. Fuck, all he cares about is the fact that his cock is starting to ache from the lack of friction.

“Another?” Liam asks, breath skating across his cock. His tongue flicks out, licking at the head.

“Yeah, Liam, please –“ Zayn says desperately. Begs really, and he doesn’t care about that either. Liam pushes a knee up with the other hand and he follows suit, pulling up the other. The ground is strangely soft from the sand and the bottom of the tent and he has nothing really to grip onto as he listens to Liam spit, body squirming with anticipation before the third finger is pressing against him.

_Now that I got you all soakin’ wet, I bet you know what’s comin’ next –_

Zayn lets out a choked laugh as he listens to the song. He should have put on like, Justin Bieber or something that he could use the music to distract himself so he doesn’t come too soon. Not this, which is almost as maddening as Liam talking dirty to him.

Liam presses deeper, nudging that little ball of nerves Zayn has only heard about feeling good, never actually experienced it, and he arches into it, gasping out over _tonight I’m taking you all the way -_

“Yeah?” Liam teases, voice low and rough.

“Liam,” Zayn groans. “Can you –“

“Hm?” Liam hums, hitting that spot again, dragging the tips of his fingers over it like he enjoys the way Zayn’s legs kick out around him.

“Fuck, Liam. Can you – I want.” The words are on his tongue but they are slipping back down his throat and strangling him.

Liam’s fingers slide out, and Zayn whines until Liam is moving up his torso so their faces are inches apart. “You want?”

“You,” Zayn whispers. He closes his eyes in frustration. “Your dick, babe.”

“You want my dick?” Liam repeats, skating his lips across Zayn’s cheek. He nips the fleshy part of Zayn’s earlobe. “Want to twork it out?”

Zayn would laugh, normally, but Liam singing along to Usher right now is making him more desperate. “Yeah, Liam,” he grits out.

“I don’t have anything,” Liam tells him, lips moving along his jaw. Zayn wants to know how he is so calm right now, when he can feel how hard Liam is against his thigh, while he is desperate and gagging for it.

“I don’t care,” Zayn assures him, words portraying just how needy he is.

“Are you sure?” Liam pushes up on his hands, looking down at Zayn though they can’t see each other. Zayn slides his hands up Liam’s chest, with shaking fingers, to cup the back of his neck.

“Yeah, Liam. I’m sure.”

Liam rolls off of him as the song fades into the next, and Zayn tries to control his breathing as he listens to Liam pulling off his shorts.

“Want me to change the song?” Liam breathes, hovering over him.

“No,” Zayn whispers, tilting his head to slot their lips together. _My whole life has changed, since you came in –_

Liam’s leads Zayn back so he is laying down again, lips working against his own, hands palming up the back of Zayn’s thighs, pushing them towards his chest. _I knew back then, you were that special one –_

He takes his time, kissing along his collar and chest. Not to tease, but to relax him, like he is aware of the unsteady rhythm of his heart.

Liam pulls back, hands flattening on the back of his thighs until Zayn replaces them with his own hands. “Tell me,” he huffs out, cock pressing against Zayn. “If you want me to stop.”

It is maddeningly slow the way Liam’s nudging the tip of his cock forward, slowly stretching Zayn. He works himself deeper, leaning back over Zayn so his legs are trapped between them. Liam cups one, wrapping it around his waist, lips hovering over Zayn’s in an exchange of sharp breaths.

“Tight,” Liam grits out, grinding his hips forward as he bottoms out. “Tell me, if you want me to –“

“No,” Zayn whispers quickly, clutching at Liam’s back. The stretch hurts, and his heart is banging brutally in his ears but he needs Liam to keep moving, keep working him open –

Liam pulls out slowly, hand slipping along Zayn’s arm so their fingers can tangle before he presses back in. He pulls their hands above Zayn’s head as his strokes become steadier, no longer facing a resistance.

And Zayn’s cock hardens again, the burn of the stretch no longer in existence. There is a burn in his lower abdomen, a burn of arousal coursing through his spine as Liam’s cock presses into that bundle of nerves every time he thrusts forward.

Liam grunts softly under the music, under the _I’m so in love, so deep in love_ , under the slow slap of their skin. It feels so good, being stretched around Liam, the way their bodies are tangled and molding together.

“Fuck,” Liam gasps, letting go of Zayn’s fingers and sliding them to cup his face roughly. It is a rough kiss that Liam pulls him into, contrasting with the careful rhythm of their hips. He clings at Liam’s back, thrusting back with more urgency until Liam gets the hint.

He strokes faster, teeth digging into the junction of Zayn’s shoulder to keep the sounds muffled in his throat. There is a tension building in Zayn’s body, threatening to snap and Zayn is desperate for it.

“Liam, faster, please,” he moans, the sound shattered as Liam hits that spot again.

“I got you,” Liam grunts, pulling up to wrap a hand around his length. Zayn scrambles to cup his mouth, pleasure building in his gut as Liam fucks into him faster. He bites roughly into the flesh of his palm as he comes, a wrecked sound leaving Liam’s lips as he clenches around him.

“Fuck, Zayn, you’re so,” Liam moans, leaning back over him to connect their lips. Zayn grabs roughly at the back of his head as Liam bites harshly at his lip, pressing deep, cock pulsing inside of him.

“So what,” Zayn gasps as Liam hips stagger as he comes, the roughest of groans leaving his lips.  

Liam rests his forehead against Zayn’s shoulder. “Beautiful,” he breathes sharply, slowly pulling out of him. His chest is falling heavy against Zayn’s, fingers sliding up his side and across his arms like he can’t stop touching him. His weight is heavy on top of Zayn, but Zayn wraps his arms around Liam to keep him there.

“So fucking beautiful,” Liam says, sounding pained as he pulls up and kisses Zayn. It is slow and gentle again, tongue working against his own like he likes the way that Zayn can’t breathe when Liam’s touching him.

 _I don’t need no dreams when I’m by your side_ plays the next song.

“Liam,” Zayn whines, because those words make his chest feel like it is collapsing. “We really need to update your music.”

Liam pushes up to look down at him, and even though it is dark, Zayn knows his brows are pushing together as he pouts. “Hey,” he says, mocking offense. “This is Michael Jackson. Everyone should have Michael Jackson on their playlist.”

Zayn huffs out a laugh, arms wrapping around the older man. _Darlin’ let me hold you, warm you in my arms –_

“Fine, fine,” he says, pressing his lips to Liam’s cheek. Liam moves to the side, but pulls Zayn so Zayn is still half laying on him.

“You said you’ll be mine,” Liam says after a long moment. “Just so you know. Despite my music taste. No takesy-backsy.”

Zayn snorts, resting his cheek against Liam’s chest. They are gross, covered in sweat and come and they should probably just run out to the ocean to clean off, or put pants on at least, in case someone decides to come in for a visit. “Same goes to you.”

Liam’s fingers card through his hair, and he hums softly to the music. He doesn’t respond, and they should probably turn the music off since it is getting late and everything around them is quiet.

“Can I tell you something?” Zayn whispers, fingers circling around Liam’s abdomen. There is a blanket that they brought with them off in the corner that he reaches for, pulling it over them because he doesn’t think neither one of them are getting up any time soon.

“Mhm.”

Zayn waits until he is curled into Liam’s side again. He wonders if the other man can feel how warm his cheeks get from just thinking about admitting this – “I used to have a crush on you when you were in high school.”

Liam is quiet a moment before he says, “Oh yeah?”

It sounds amused, and Zayn pinches his side. “Yeah. Was super pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic. It’s cute.”

“Not cute,” Zayn denies.

Fingers pinch his chin, lips hovering in front of his when Liam says, “You’re pretty cute to me.” And Zayn decides not to fight it. He will let Liam compliment him even though it makes him feel too warm if the other man keeps kissing him like this.

“Now can I tell you something?” Liam says, close enough that his lips still rub against Zayn’s as he speaks.

“Okay,” Zayn whispers. There is no way he will say what is on Zayn’s mind, what Zayn needs to hear, that the feeling is mutual, but his heart still picks up like he _might_.

“I have a crush on you,” Liam says, smiling. “Like right now.”

Zayn snorts. “That’s cute.”

Liam groans, rolling away from him. He is still close, given the small space of the tent. “Oh come on,” he complains.

Zayn tackles him, sliding on top of his body to press kisses to his face. He takes Liam’s wrists, pulling them above Liam’s head like he had done to him earlier. He is surprised that Liam goes so easily without struggle, and he wonders what else Liam would let him do.

Liam’s thighs wrap around him and he is being rolled over, strong hands grabbing his arms and pinning him down. Zayn gasps, eyes wide as he looks up at Liam, close enough that he can just barely see the grin on those pink lips. “I’m cute, you said?”

“Okay, okay,” Zayn forfeits. “You manly, tough, hot as fuck piece of –“

“Boyfriend,” Liam interrupts, lips finding his in the dark.

 

The last day of summer, they choose to spend inside. Liam is in the kitchen, an apron around his waist because Safaa thought it would be funny. Zayn just thinks it is cute, and he can’t keep the stupid smile off his face as he watches them.

Liam has flour up his arms, speckled across his the dark colored shirt he is wearing. Zayn is not quite sure that’s right, but he doesn’t know what him and his mom are baking, so he keeps quiet. Liam reaches out, dragging a flour covered finger across Safaa’s cheek until she is giggling and running after him with her own flour coated hands.

His mom shakes her head disapprovingly, a fond smile taking over her lips.

Yaser looks at Zayn with wide, alarmed eyes. “You know he’s a keeper,” he says quietly. “Your mother doesn’t let anyone mess around in her kitchen.”

“Safaa is her favorite,” Zayn points out.

“Together,” Yaser starts seriously. “They could take this place over.”

Liam’s eyes crinkle, mouth falling open as Safaa says something he can’t quite hear. Safaa’s laugh follows, high pitched and girlish. Infectious, really, that it just makes his smile grow.

Zayn watches them from the kitchen table, wondering if there is anything more than _in love_ to describe the feeling in his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a small scene of violence. (Minor violence, not between Z+L). 
> 
> Also, thank you so much for the feedback you have given me for the first part. It means the world, thank you so much!

**September**

Zayn flops down on the bed, exhausted. He wishes he had asked his parents to stay and help him unpack. He is too tired to do it now, so the boxes that are stacked neatly in the corner of the room are going to have to wait. (And if that wait is a week or longer, who cares? He doesn’t actually share the bedroom with anyone.)

When there is a knock at the door, he groans, not wanting to get up from his bed. But he drags himself up anyway because he doesn’t want his new suitemates to be offended by him shutting himself away on the first day.

It’s not any of his suitemates though, thankfully, but Liam, smirking at the wide of Zayn’s eyes and the way his mouth falls open, because Liam had said he wasn’t free until late tonight and Zayn is glad he decided to get out of bed to open the door.

“Your roommates let me in,” he says instead of hello. It seems impossible that this swoop in his stomach will ever go away when he looks at the man in front of him, the round of his cheeks slightly burnt, those brown eyes with flecks of gold that always stand out in the sun but still shine bright in the crap light of the room.

“Don’t you have practice right now?” Zayn glances at his watch. It is just past noon, and his practices have started early for the last week.  

Liam makes a wounded face when he walks forward, closing the door behind him. He has cut his hair since the last time they saw each other, so now it is just a thin layer coating his scalp, with none of the extra length at the top. It makes his cheeks rounder, and his beard stand out more. He is not sure which style he likes more. “It’s good to see you too,” he says dryly, but his eyes are bright and teasing.

“I missed you,” Zayn says when Liam presses against him. He hopes Liam knows how true his words are by the fast pace of his heart. Because they are true. He wore Liam’s shirt to bed last night just to fall asleep surrounded by that familiar cologne.

He missed Liam so much, it was only two weeks. He is attached, in deep -

“Just want to lay in bed,” Liam pouts. His thumb rubs softly under Zayn’s chin, just holding him there. He doesn’t look tired, he is glowing actually, but that is probably due to the fact that he falls asleep at like ten every night, even sometimes before, snoring before Zayn can hang up the phone. “I’m sore and I miss you, and I don’t get a break until Sunday.”

“Sunday?” Zayn repeats. “As in not today, Sunday? But next Sunday?”

Liam nods solemnly. “Friday we have an away game. So technically I’m free Saturday but I can’t lay in bed with you because I’ll be traveling all day.”

Zayn chews on the inside of his lip. Disappointment makes his chest ache. He had been looking forward to seeing Liam. The last few weeks of summer, those words he realized he felt had been nagging at him to be spoken out loud. To Liam. Not just to Harry, who had laughed and said, _“yeah, dude, you’ve been in love with him for years.”_

Because Harry doesn’t understand, he has had crushed on Liam for years. This, this is completely different. This is consuming, and a bit overwhelming.

“We’ll do that Sunday, then,” he mutters back, pushing forward to kiss the corner of Liam’s mouth.

“I still want to see you tonight. You can stay at mine, unless you were looking forward to sleeping in your new dorm room.” He trails off, eyes flickering down sheepishly.

“I was, actually,” Zayn sighs disappointedly. He can only look at Liam’s pout for a second before he is quirking his lips up, assuring him that there is nothing he would like more than to spend the night with Liam.

Liam leaves in time to make it to practice, showing more restraint than Zayn ever has when it comes to him leaving Liam to go to work. He tries not to think too much about it, tries not to be aware of the fact that the disappointment is seeping away from his chest and filling the rest of him.

He is a bit clingy, attaching to the feeling he gets when he is around Liam. He’ll work on it.

It is easier to do when Harry comes over, motivating him to actually unpack the boxes since he has no reason not to. He listens to Harry bitch about his new roommates, even though Zayn is pretty sure they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words, before he gets Liam’s text that practice is over.

Zayn wants to be thankful for football practice when he watches Liam peel off the practice jersey, his skin slick with sweat and muscles dancing as his arms move the material over his head, but then Liam is giving him a tired smile and telling him to make himself at home while he gets in the shower. He tries not to think about wet, naked Liam because he saw the drag of his feet when he went into the bathroom, but it is difficult because he has missed wet Liam almost as much as he has missed naked Liam.

He is clean with the smell of soap and green apples when he joins Zayn a few minutes later, curling up beside him with an arm thrown over Zayn’s torso. Zayn doesn’t have to look at him to know his eyes are closed because his voice is quiet, words drawled out, like when they are on the phone together right before he falls asleep.

“Why do you have such a long practice?” Zayn whispers. The sky had just turned dark, it is still too early for him to fall asleep, but he would be tired too if he was running around for seven hours. Andy and Niall are in the living room, and he can hear every word of the show they are watching, but the noise doesn’t seem to bother Liam.

“Hell week,” Liam explains, eyes remaining closed. Zayn can get away with staring like this, at least. He can look at the way Liam’s eyelashes span across the high of his cheeks, and the plump of his lips when speaks. He probably shouldn’t though, because his dick has been interested since Liam got in the shower. “The end of it. Practice normally isn’t that long, but sometimes I still have to be there to do other stuff like watch old games, prepare for our next one. And Captain duties, you know.”

“Sounds fun,” Zayn says dryly, because he doesn’t know.

His ‘mhm’ tells Zayn he is not listening, and his breathing evens out not soon after. It is hours before Zayn falls asleep too.

 

The first week of college is okay. The classes don’t seem as intimidating, his work load not as extensive as he feared. It will get worse as the semester continues, he knows, but for now he has a lot of free time. He spends most of it with Harry, in one or the other’s dorms. The only difference from school and home being the smell of heavy cleaner and his suitemate’s bong instead of his mum’s home cooking.

And he is around Doniya a lot more, whose first week is more stressful than his, but she doesn’t mind when he curls up on her bedroom floor with a book or a sketch pad while she is doing her homework, waiting for Liam to get out of practice because Doniya lives in the same apartment building as him.

Thursday night, before Liam’s game, there is an energy running through him. He is different than the other nights, where he falls asleep hours before Zayn. Now he is keeping Zayn up, with rough hands and a teasing smirk. He forgets why he decided he was too afraid to tell Liam he was in love with him, and he does without deciding to when Liam presses deep, but his thrusts are rough enough that the words are too incoherent and choked sounding that Liam doesn’t seem to notice or hear. Or he ignores it, but Zayn would rather pretend that is not actually an option.

He tells Zayn he can stay at his while he is away at the game, but Zayn feels like maybe that is pushing his clinginess too much, so he stays at his own dorm, waiting for Liam to call him back after he was pulled away from the phone in excitement because they won their first game.

(And if he sleeps in Liam’s shirt to be surrounded by the scent of Liam, that doesn’t count as being clingy because it is Liam’s fault half of the drawers in the dresser are filled with his clothes and not Zayn’s.)

 

“Are you doing homework?” Harry chides, watching him from across the table they are sitting at, outside so they can still enjoy the last few weeks of the warmth. Danforth’s courtyard is larger and nicer than the one at Everton and it has food stands, which by default makes it better. “It’s the weekend, dude.”

“It’s due Monday,” Zayn says defensively, continuing to scribble answers to the questions on the handout that he actually remembers the answers to. He hadn’t been able to do it like he wanted to the night before, because he had been waiting for Liam. And since Liam had promised him Sunday well, he doesn’t want to do it then either.

“So do it Monday morning.” Harry laughs before he finishes, because he knows Zayn would never wait that last of a minute.

“I want to do well on it,” Zayn tells him, still not looking up. It is hard enough to pay attention already. He probably should have just gone to the library instead, like he had planned to before Harry had convinced him to come here.

“How much is it worth?”

“Ten points.”

Harry groans, picking at the French fries on the plate in front of him. “I wish Niall was here. He’s less lame.”

Zayn gets up, pulling his notebooks into his arms. “I’m going to the library, Harry.” He doesn’t care that he has to walk twenty minutes to get back to his campus’ library, because it is smaller there. Maybe the walk will calm him down because he has been on edge since he woke up this morning, and he doesn’t know why. Which just adds to Zayn’s frustration, really.

“No, I’m sorry,” Harry says quickly, standing up too. His brows furrow together. “What’s been up with you?”

“Nothing,” Zayn denies. “It’s stupid.”

“Well,” Harry says, smiling brightly. “I know what can probably fix whatever it is.”

Before Zayn can ask what, there is a body pressing against his back and a strong arm curling around his waist. He jumps in surprise, but the arm, with those familiar thick chevrons stretching across it, tightens around him, keeping them stitched together. He’s not so sure how the one thing making him grumpy also makes him feel better, but he’ll take it.

“Hey,” Liam says quietly, lips scraping across his cheek when Zayn tries to turn his head. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Zayn says weakly. That on edge feeling dissipates, replaced by Liam’s warmth. “I was just leaving.”

Liam releases his hold enough that Zayn can look at him. He is smiling, the corner of his lips pressing high into his cheeks when he says, “Any chance I can come with?”

He wants to make a witty comeback, one that makes it seem like he hasn’t been craving to spend time with Liam. But instead he nods, teeth digging into his bottom lip with an expression that makes Liam’s brows furrow in concern. “Of course you can.”

“Sorry I didn’t call back last night,” Liam apologizes, sliding their fingers together as they leave Harry, who hadn’t heard their goodbye because he spotted Niall and he has severe tunnel issue problems. (Not that Zayn can really comment on that, or he would be a _hypocrite_ ). “I don’t have an acceptable excuse. I just got caught up in the commotion of winning.”

“It’s okay,” Zayn assures him, swinging their linked fingers like they are five years old because he feels awkward. The last week had just been so different than the last three months, and it had been so sudden of a change and so strange of a feeling that he is not dealing with it well, even though he knows it’s probably all in his head -

His brain is _always_ the culprit.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Liam promises. “I am completely yours for the next twenty four hours. We can do anything you want.”

Zayn quirks his lips up. “You’re going to make me watch the Hobbit aren’t you?”

Liam gives him a guilty look.

Zayn doesn’t mind watching the Hobbit again though, because Liam keeps him close, legs tangled together and lips against his temple as he whispers along to the movie. His fingers work under Zayn’s shirt, rubbing absentmindedly at the skin of his abdomen. The touch isn’t heated, there is no intent behind it, and Zayn still feels like his lungs are collapsing.

And Liam is actually awake after the sky darkens, laying on his stomach with Zayn straddling his hips, fingers working deftly at the muscles in his back and yeah, Zayn definitely doesn’t mind that, even though he doesn’t really know what he is doing. Liam keeps making sounds of contentment, so apparently he is doing something right. The last few weeks have been great to Liam’s back, the muscles more defined and hardened across his shoulders. He groans low in his throat whenever Zayn digs his fingers in harder, remembering Liam saying how sore he felt after practice.

And when Liam presses Zayn into the mattress with soft spoken words like _mine_ and _beautiful_ , the previous week seems to slip away from him.

 

_“Who is that?”_

_“Which one?”_

_“Twenty-three. He is gorgeous.”_

_“Liam Payne.”_

Harry clears his throat loudly, dragging the sound out until the two girls in front of them look back with matching glares. Zayn just sighs. He doesn’t even go to school here and he has heard similar things non-stop since the pep rally a few days ago. It doesn’t make him mad, because it is _true_. Liam looks good with his shoulder pads and the jersey stretched across his chest. And those spandex pants, the one that clings to the curve of his ass and outlines his muscular thighs – those are going to be the death of Zayn.

So yeah, he gets it.

“You know,” Harry says with a grin once the girls turn their attention back towards the field. They are here early, to watch the boys run practice drills before the game. The stadium is much larger than the one back home, almost looks official, like a real professional stadium. “That was you back in high school. _‘Oh my god, Haz, Liam is so cute. Oh my god, Liam. Wanna suck Liam’s dick_ –‘”

Zayn shoves him playfully. “I never said that last part.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure you did.”

Zayn ignores him, eyes finding Liam on the field. He is running, cleats snatching into the turf as he takes off, head turning in the other direction at the ball zooming through the air. As soon as his fingers close around it, he is pulling his arm back and shoots it through the air to someone else. Quick, and smooth.

He hadn’t seen him yet today or yesterday and he is trying to get over the sour feeling settled in his gut because of it. It is Friday, meaning just a few more hours until the weekend where he doesn’t have to worry about it. Liam will be all his, and he can wash away all the bad feelings with the good ones that come with being around Liam.

Doniya and the girls join them after the team disappears from the field just as the game is about to begin. Andy’s practice jersey hangs off her shoulders, and is tucked into her jeans. He wishes he had one with _Payne_ on it, but even though Liam had mentioned him wearing it to a game before, he had never brought it up again.

“It is a lot like home, here. People are obsessed with their football,” she explains, sitting beside him. She opens up her hand, revealing ear buds in her palms. “They are going to get loud.”

“Thanks,” he says when she places them in his hands.  “I’m a bit excited, y’know. To see him play.” He pauses, grimacing at himself. “I mean _them_. To see them play.”

Doniya laughs. “Before Andy and I started dating, that’s the only reason why we came. Liam is good, people really love him here.” Zayn doesn’t think there is a place Liam could go that he wouldn’t be loved. “It’s still strange, though. Not having Sophia here.”

She waves towards the cheerleaders, where they are standing in lines with their pompoms resting on their hips, hidden away on the sideline. Their uniforms match the players’, forest green and black. One of the girls has a _23_ drawn on her cheek like Harry had tried convincing Zayn to do before they had left for the game. 

“Where is she now?” Zayn asks, looking away from the cheerleaders. Doniya gives him a look like he is crazy before he clarifies with, “I mean, why doesn’t she come to the games?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Liam asked her parents once but I don’t really know what they told him. She watches every one though, at her house.”

The rest is cut off by the stadium erupting, people flying out of their seats around them. Including Harry, who has his fists in the air, shouting “Payno! Payno!”

On the field, Niall is clapping Liam’s helmet too hard to be comfortable, to be _safe._ The scoreboard flips to six under the ‘home’ sign. Doniya wasn’t kidding. People really do take their football serious here. It’s only the first quarter.

Niall comparing Liam to a bullet fits, because Zayn has a hard time keeping his eyes on Liam as he speeds across the field, faster than how he had been moving during their practice drills. His heart jumps into his throat when he disappears in a pile of green and blacks and the opposing white and blues, but he always pops out on the other side, seemingly unharmed.

He wishes Liam wasn’t good at the game no matter how nice it is to hear the whole stadium chanting his name, because it seems that the largest defense players on the other team seem to target him, and Zayn thinks he heart is going to be so stressed out by the time the game is over they will have to take _him_ to the hospital.

With two minutes left of the game, they move to wait where the team will come off of the field to head towards the lockers. They are ahead by fourteen, and according Doniya, “there’s not much left to see.”

It is not an important game, not against a rival team or even a good one, really, just their first home game. But everyone is chanting and cheering like they just won the Super Bowl or something. An energetic current buzzes through the air, and it is infectious, because Zayn finds himself smiling excitedly too, even though he doesn’t really care much for football. He has only ever liked it for Liam.   

Liam pushes through his teammates, helmet dangling in his hands by his side as he makes his way towards him. Zayn has seen him smile plenty of times, different ones for different occasions, like the soft one that is just for Zayn or the embarrassed one that usually comes whenever Niall is talking, and Zayn has fallen in love with every single one. But he has never seen one quite like the one he is wearing now.

There is not even a word for it. Happiness doesn’t quite do it justice. Excitement isn’t really right either. It is just so fucking bright that Zayn has to look away, eyeing his toes as Liam makes his way towards him.  

He doesn’t say anything when he gets to Zayn, just wraps an arm around him, lifting him with ease, chests stitching together to press that smile against Zayn’s lips. He is sweaty and kind of smells, but Zayn clings to him until he is placed back onto his feet.

“Wait for me,” Liam says, before he is being shoved forward by Andy, who is also hyped on winning.

“Are they always like this?” Zayn says to Doniya with a breathless laugh. He feels like he is swooning -

“Always,” she promises with a roll of her eyes.

Liam takes forever to come back out of the locker rooms, but when he does, he is cleaned and gleaming, water droplets stuck to his hair and skin glowing. He throws an arm over Zayn’s shoulders, pulling him towards the parking lot with a quick wave to Doniya, Jade, and Danielle.

“I have never seen you like this,” Zayn says, watching the smile Liam has stuck to his lips as he looks straight ahead.

“Like what?”

“So excited. Like, it’s worse than the Hobbit, dude.”

“I love football,” Liam admits with a careless shrug. “And you know, winning isn’t so bad either.”

 _I love you_ hangs heavy on the tip of Zayn’s tongue, but he keeps quiet, not wanting to ruin the smile on Liam’s face.

“You’re good at it,” Zayn says instead. It sounds like the same thing, the way his voice is coated in everything he feels.

“I’m okay,” Liam tries with a grin that says he knows he knows better.

Zayn listens to Liam recount the game, quiet about the fact that yeah, he had been watching it (Liam), the whole time. He can’t keep the smile off his face as he listens, and Liam’s cheeks redden a few times when he glances over like he is embarrassed about how excited he is. It only makes Zayn smile more.

They are barely through the front door of Liam’s apartment when Liam is gripping the back of Zayn’s thighs, lifting him and carrying him through the apartment, that same excitement in Liam seeping out into the air around them. “You know what I love more?” Liam starts. He doesn’t finish though, cutting himself off as he latches his lips to Zayn’s.

He keeps his lips preoccupied when Zayn tries to pull away and insist on knowing _what._ But Liam maneuvers him so easily, placing him on the bed and flipping him over to trail kisses along his spine that he can’t really find it in himself to stop him just to talk about it.

“Zayn,” Liam groans against his skin, teeth nipping at the indents in his lower back. His fingers slide under the start of his pants, tongue chasing the newly exposed skin.  

His _“Liam, what?”_ gets lost in his throat when Liam shucks down the start of his pants, biting at the curve at the top of Zayn’s left cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Liam mumbles against the sore inch of flesh he bruised when Zayn gasps out. “I just –“

When his teeth dig in a second time they are gentler, moving slowly across each knob of his spine until he gets to the curve of neck, tongue rolling along the fantail inked on his skin, blanketing his back. Liam rarely touches him like this, hands rough as they move up his sides, dragging his arms above his head. It is fucking hot though, and his cock is already starting to fatten where it is trapped between his body and the bed.

“Don’t mind,” he pants.

“You sure?” Liam says, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “You won’t mind if it I’m al ittle rough?” He lets Zayn’s arms go, scrambling off of him. Zayn doesn’t move, doesn’t bring his arms back down, just lays there waiting for Liam to do _something_.

“I won’t mind.”

He watches Liam reach into the nightstand while simultaneously shucking down his joggers, without any finesse, just an eagerness that Zayn feels too. Zayn gets the hint, moving to take off his own pants the reset of the way as Liam steps out of his and kneels back on the bed.

“Roll back over,” Liam says, leaning over him when he does.

His fingers are cool against Zayn’s skin, and the gentle way he works them into Zayn doesn’t last long. They become urgent, stretching him open quickly. Zayn bites on his upper arm to keep the needy noises quiet, to keep in the hiss of pain when Liam presses in the third digit too soon.

Liam lifts his hips off the bed some, the tip of his cock teasing against Zayn’s hole until he is urging his hips back. He is not sure if he is ready, but he needs it so he bites his tongue when the stretch stings too much. Liam grips his shoulder, fingers digging into his collar bone as he leans over him, slowly pushing past the resistance like he doesn’t notice the way Zayn’s body tenses up. He definitely does not mind -

“Fuck,” he says roughly, pulling out slowly and snapping his hips forward. “You always take it so well.”

Zayn moans, hiding his face in his arm. His thrusts get rougher, the slap of skin louder than the quick banging of the bed against the wall. There will be bruises against his hips from Liam’s fingers tomorrow, and he is eager for it.

“Liam,” he moans as Liam strokes deep, grinding his hips forward against that ball of nerves before pulling back.

“Yeah? You like it?” Liam grunts, doing it again.

Zayn can’t form coherent words. He just thrusts back weakly in response. Liam lets go of his shoulder, shoving a hand under his abdomen to lift him as he falls back onto his knees, tugging Zayn up with him. Liam’s chest against his back is sticky with sweat and Zayn feels limp, trying to hold himself on his knees too as Liam continues to fuck into him with rough strokes.

“Couldn’t hear you like that,” Liam pants, mouth on the curve of his neck. “I love hearing you.”

Zayn reaches back to slip his fingers behind Liam’s head just for something to grab onto, and he lets out a groan in frustration because his hair isn’t longer any more, nothing to grip onto.

Liam’s hand slides up his chest, the palm of his hand cupping his neck and pressing his chin towards the ceiling. It is not a rough hold, nothing like the way Liam’s fingers had been biting into his skin earlier, but it makes arousal twist through his spine because _fuck_ , it’s hot.

“Touch, yeah?” Liam grits out, hips staggering a bit. “Fuck, Zayn touch yourself.”

Zayn nods frantically, using his free hand to wrap around himself. He moans shamelessly as Liam pulls him down onto his cock with a hand cradling his hip, Zayn grinding down against him as he strokes his cock with words of encouragement moaned into his ear.

“Gonna come babe?” Liam says, teeth nipping at his ears. “Gonna come for me?”

Zayn leans his head back on Liam’s shoulder, Liam’s arms tightening around him as his body trembles, hand blurring over his cock before he comes with a shout, streaking across the bed and his fingers. Liam moans low and dirty, biting down on Zayn’s shoulder as Zayn clenches around him, working his hips back against Liam as he feels Liam start to lose control.

He feels dirty when Liam pulls out, arms still holding him up. Come slips down the back of his thighs, sweat pooling in every dip on his body. His thighs are slippery and Liam’s hands run over them before he is pushing Zayn forward, and flipping him over so his back is on the bed.

Liam pinches his chin, his weight resting on an arm bracing Zayn’s head as he kisses him, working his tongue slowly into Zayn’s mouth. Zayn moans, spreading his legs even though he is sore already and Liam clearly isn’t finished with him yet.

“Do you always get like this after football?” Zayn chuckles, wrapping his arms around the width of Liam’s shoulders.

“No,” Liam admits, looking down at him. “Football is an adrenaline rush, especially when we win but seeing you afterwards –“ He kisses Zayn slowly before continuing. “Seeing you afterwards is a rush of something else, and I dunno, messes with my mind.”

“And your dick?” Zayn whispers.

Liam snorts. “Yeah, that too.”

“I like it,” he admits softly, nudging Liam’s jaw with his nose to so he can kiss along the tendons of his throat.

“Yeah?” The moan in his throat vibrates under Zayn’s lips and he bites softly, rolling his tongue along his birthmark.

“You’re always gentle. I won’t mind if you get a little rough with me more often.”

Liam grabs Zayn’s jaw, tilting his head back to moan against his lips. “See what I mean? You’re always messing with my mind.”

“Not sorry,” Zayn chuckles.

 

Zayn knew he was going to hurt the next morning, but he barely wants to move out of the plush bed. His back hurts, his butt aches, and his thighs feel like he has been doing squats for two days straight. But he woke up to Liam’s fingers in his hair, the scent of coffee in his nose and _happy._

Liam is fine to let him stay in bed all day, and only disappears for about an hour to go for a run while Zayn takes a nap, because he is exhausted. He has a pile of homework he should probably do, but he is using that as an excuse to get out of the party Harry wants him to go to tonight, so it can wait.

Apparently telling Harry that he wants to hang out with Liam instead of going to a party was not a good enough excuse since “just bring Liam” had been his response.

Zayn can’t get the _“you know what I love more?”_ from the night before out of the front of his mind, curiosity eating away at him. It may not mean anything at all, even if Liam were to say him, or being with him or something in that nature because it could have just been in the moment, but he can’t get rid of the urge of bringing it up again.

Every time he is about to, he finds a reason not to. Like now, it is at the tip of his tongue but Liam is clearly getting ready for something, and he doesn’t want to be the reason he is late.

Liam pulls on the black dress shirt, watching himself in the mirror as he does up the buttons. Zayn watches too, because he looks as good as Zayn thought he would in it. The material stretches nicely across his shoulders, hugging his hips just right -

“What are you getting dressed up for?” Zayn yawns, scratching at his stomach. There are mouth shaped marks bruised against his skin, and they ache when he presses a finger against them. They just got out of the shower, and Zayn wears a plaid button up and some loose boxers, but Liam had put dress pants on and he shaved until his skin was smooth, which he never does. Zayn likes Liam no matter what he does, but he looks so young with a clean shaven face.

Liam looks over his shoulder, thick brows furrowing before he says, “Sports banquet. I didn’t mention it?”

Zayn shakes his head. Maybe he can change the subject before that feeling of disappointment comes back into his stomach. Saturday is his day with Liam. Football gets to have him every other day.

“Well, I have a sports banquet tonight,” Liam tells him with a grin. “At seven. But I have to leave by six to pick Marie up.”

“Marie?” Zayn stills. Maybe he could run out of the apartment without Liam noticing, because he hates the way jealousy coats his voice. Because he is not, dammit -

Liam walks over, sitting on the edge of the bed, his tie dangling loose from his collar. “We have to escort one of the cheerleaders. It’s mandatory. Doesn’t mean anything, I promise.”

“Okay,” Zayn says. It feels like it means something, or Liam would have mentioned that before now.

“Jealous?” Liam says, amused. It’s not funny, thanks.

“No. I know you’re mine,” Zayn says defiantly, tilting his chin up.

Liam presses his lips to Zayn’s forehead, keeping them there for a long moment. “Mhm, I am. Are you going to the party tonight?”

Zayn shrugs.

“Well if you do, let me know. I’ll meet you there after the banquet.”

Zayn doesn’t respond, just flicks the television channel to something he can distract himself watching. It’s not working, and Zayn feels childish again but he kind of just wants to storm out and throw a tantrum.

“Or you can stay here,” Liam suggests, getting up from the bed. “If you don’t end up going. We can watch a movie or something. I promise not the Hobbit again. Maybe.”

Zayn follows suit, grabbing a pair of gray sweatpants that lay on the floor. He doesn’t know whose they are, and he doesn’t care. “I should actually go.”

Liam’s face falls for a moment, teeth digging into his bottom lip when he nods. He grabs Zayn’s hips, tugging him closer to kiss him softly. “Okay. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Liam,” Zayn promises before grabbing his bag and heading out without another word. He doesn’t say anything to Niall or Andy, who are arguing about the proper way to tie a tie when he walks through the living room.

 

He ends up going to the party, which to Harry’s delight, doesn’t take much convincing. He throws on a t-shirt with the least amount of wrinkles, one that is his and not Liam’s, and heads out to Harry’s dorm. The party is in a house off of Danforth’s campus, not too far from Liam’s apartment building.

He scoffs when it costs five dollars to get in, forcing Harry to promise him he will pay him back for it. He isn’t going to pay for Harry’s love of being social.

“Did you know about the sports banquet?” Zayn asks as he follows Harry through the house. Harry seems to know where he is going, because they end up in the kitchen, where there is a makeshift bar made out of the island in the middle.

“What?” Harry asks, grabbing a beer from the ice bucket on the ground beside it. “Oh yeah. Niall is with some girl named Lisa or something. Maybe Lauren? No, Liz.”

“Marie,” Zayn tells him, taking the bottle handed to him. “Liam is with Marie.”

Harry looks at him for a minute, head cocked to the side before he takes the beer away before Zayn can open it. “We need something stronger.”

Three shots in, Zayn is regretting it. He should have just taken a beer, which would have taken him a while to drink, instead of shooting down three thin glasses of liquid that burn his throat and makes the room spin. His words even sound slurred to him, and that is why he insists on just taking a beer instead of the fourth shot Harry offers him. Just to hold, to not feel awkward.  

“D’you think she’s pretty?” Zayn slurs, resting against the side of the house. The air is cool and he doesn’t remember smoking so much of his cigarette, but he is on the second now, and Harry’s hand is planted on his shoulder as he tries to make a face like he is listening intently, but he keeps smiling every time his eyes go out of focus.

“Who?” Harry asks. “Miranda?”

“Marie,” Zayn corrects sourly, stubbing out his cigarette.

“Does it matter? He’s your Liam,” Harry supplies, shoving the pack of cigarettes Zayn takes out back into his pants pocket so he won’t smoke another. That is another reason why Zayn hates getting drunk. He smokes too much.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Zayn confesses, shoulders slumping. “Haven’t seen him much. It feels like, I dunno.” He can’t stop the words from leaving his lips, even though he knows he is rambling. “Every time it’s up, I forget about when it’s down but then something has to remind me.”

Harry looks at him seriously before tugging him away from the house. “Let’s go dance. Get it off of your mind for just tonight.”

“No,” Zayn insists, but it goes ignored as Harry tugs him back inside, hand secure on his wrist as he says, “Come on. Just dance with me.”

There are too many people in the makeshift dance floor, too close to each other, and the music too loud, deafening against his ears. And Liam is not there. Liam, who is perfect and probably an amazing dancer if the way he moves across the field is anything to go by.

“If our boys can go out and have fun, so can we,” Harry yells over the music. He starts moving, and it is awkward to watch because Harry doesn’t know how to dance but he does it with a confidence that is easy to admire. Zayn tries to follow suit, tries to match the other boy’s movement but he doesn’t have the same confidence, and no amount of alcohol can rid how awkward he feels.

He grabs onto Harry’s shirt when he turns, facing a man Zayn doesn’t know, but he reads the “Styles,” on his lips. Harry doesn’t notice Zayn trying to pull them away, and a body presses against the back of him, making him let go of his best friend’s shirt.

“What’s your name?” An unfamiliar voice says loud in his ear, hands gripping his hips. The alcohol in his system makes it hard to focus on anything, but he knows that cologne the man is wearing is wrong, the voice too deep, and the fingers too calloused when they shuck up his shirt enough to graze the exposed skin of his side. Zayn looks over his shoulder, and the grin he gets in return is too cocky, not warm and enticing.

“Zayn,” he says anyway, making the man grin even more. He turns, sliding his arms up the man’s chest to make some room between them but his arms feel like jello and the man just pulls him closer.

“Robert,” the man says, hands sliding to the dip in Zayn’s back. He wiggles his hips against Zayn but Zayn doesn’t return the favor. Those eyes aren’t brown, at least – not the right shade of brown.

“I have a boyfriend,” Zayn tells him.

“Where is he then?” He doesn’t like the amusement on the man’s face when he raises an eyebrow. “If he’s not here, you can dance with me.”

Robert presses closer when Zayn tries to get out the, “I’m not sure it works like that,” but he isn’t sure that is what he actually says, because Robert keeps trying to grind forward.

He loses his balance, fingers tightening around Robert’s shirt when he is pushed forward roughly. It takes him a minute to realize it is not him being pushed forward, but Robert by a hand reaching from behind Zayn to push at Robert’s shoulders. It’s Robert’s arms around his waist that pulls him forward, making him feel like he is falling, but there is another hand that grabs at his chest from behind before he can.

“What the fuck,” Robert snaps, shoulders broadening like he is some kind of alpha male. It makes Zayn snort into the palm of his hand as he sinks into the scent of that familiar cologne, into the frame that is smaller than Robert’s but still bigger than his own.

“Back off,” Liam says. It’s his voice, too familiar to Zayn, but it doesn’t right. It is growled, angry and Liam is shoving past his shoulder roughly to stand in between Robert and Zayn.

“What’s your problem, dude?” Robert says, chest puffing out. He is a lot bigger than Liam and Zayn grabs onto Liam’s arm, remaining behind his back because he is a horrible human shield.

“You,” says Niall from the side and Zayn doesn’t know where he came from. The twist of _challenge_ on his face is alarming, so unlike Niall’s normal bright expression.

Realization crosses Robert’s face and he tilts his head back with a laugh that makes Zayn uncomfortable. It is malicious, condescending, and just like the grin he had been wearing earlier. “Boyfriend, right? Shouldn’t let a pretty one like that be alone. You never know who is going to –“

Whatever he was going to say gets lost when a fist connects with his lips, and Robert falls into the people behind him. Liam shakes his fist, clenching his teeth like it hurt, his chest rising and falling fast under Zayn’s palm where he pressed it to keep Liam from falling forward.

“Dude,” Niall says, eyes wide as he grabs Liam’s arm, keeping him from going back to Robert who is pushing up from the ground with an angry look on his face, an alpha male look that Zayn no longer seems to find funny.  

Liam turns and grabs Zayn’s arm, tight but it doesn’t hurt, and he is pulling him out of the crowd. “Let’s go,” he says tightly. Zayn looks back at Niall and Andy, who are pressing hard against Robert’s chest to keep him from following after. Harry looks alarmed, calling after them, but it goes ignored.

“Liam,” Zayn protests, because Liam is pulling him too quickly and his head is starting to spin. His grip tightens until they are outside, and Zayn doubles over, emptying the contents of his stomach in the yard.

Liam’s hands are gentle against his back, and Zayn wipes at the tears in his eyes before he stands. Liam’s face is closed off, lips tight.

“Okay?” Liam asks.

Zayn nods, and then Liam is taking his hand again. He still walks too fast and it takes a minute before he realizes that they are going back to his apartment. Zayn stumbles, trying to keep up but Liam is practically dragging him back. He clings onto him, trying to get him to slow down, but Liam just looks at him with that tight lipped frown again.

He hates that he is probably the reason Liam looks like that, and he feels sick again. They stop when he feels a pressure in his throat, fingers chasing across his abdomen just to hold himself together. Liam is patient with him, even though he doesn’t deserve it.

It feels like forever until he sees the entrance to Liam’s apartment building, and he relaxes some as Liam guides him through.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn mumbles. “I tried to push him – I tried to push um, him off.”

“You’re drunk,” Liam says, no emotion in his voice. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Not that drunk,” Zayn denies but Liam ignores him. “We can talk about it now.”

Liam stops, letting go of his hand and turning to face him. They are in the hallway of his apartment, just a few feet away from his door and maybe he should have kept his mouth shut until they got inside, because he hates the angry look on Liam’s face, and the hallway light is dim and stretches shadow across Liam’s face. He trusts Liam would never hurt him, but it is still alarming.

Liam presses his hands against Zayn’s chest, similar to the way he had been doing to Robert. “You sure looked like you were dancing with him, Zayn. I’m pissed off and I rather not yell at you while you’re drunk, so we are not talking about it right now.”

And then he storms off towards the door, leaving Zayn in the hallway. He considers turning back and walking to Everton, but the idea frightens him because he is actually pretty drunk, so he slowly makes his way to Liam’s apartment.

Liam has his dress shirt unbuttoned by the time he catches his breath enough to walk in, his tie long gone and a water bottle in his hand that he shoves in Zayn’s direction. “Come on,” he says, not looking at Zayn as he walks off towards the bathroom.

He feels like a child, letting Liam help him into the shower and then brushing his teeth and changing his clothes. The alcohol is still in his system and he feels like crying because it is so quiet and Liam’s face is so emotionless.

“How was the banquet?” he asks, voice small as Liam helps him step into a pair of briefs.

Liam stands. “Fine,” he says shortly. “I’m tired though. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And he leaves Zayn again, this time alone in his bedroom, a blanket in his hands as he heads out towards the living room. Zayn curls into Liam’s bed, pressing his face into the pillow to muffle the drunken sobs that leave his chest. Everything just feels so fucked up lately, and he has no clue how it got this way.

Liam isn’t there when Zayn wakes and makes his way to the kitchen. Niall is though, and it is tense the way he keeps darting his eyes at Zayn like they need to talk about something. He remembers the night before, remembers Liam getting angry, but it is in bits and pieces.

“When Liam gets angry,” Niall says, looking at him from over his cereal. “It’s best just to give him his space and let him calm down. So I would be gone by the time he gets back. Not to be harsh, just sayin’.”

Zayn nods, heading back to Liam’s room to collect his clothes instead of making himself a cup of coffee. Niall gives him a sheepish smile on his way out. The walk back to Everton sucks, because his head bangs from being hungover and his chest hurts for every other reason.

Minutes feel like hours, hours like days. He texts Liam an apology, hoping Liam will give him a chance to say it in person. He knows his worries are unfounded, that Liam is just mad, understandably. He is not going to stop talking to Zayn forever or none of the other shit his mind keeps making telling him is going to happen.

He tries to draw. They have a mock art show coming up he has to prepare for, and he has planned on using some of the pieces he does in class, but it is not enough to fill his display.

But he can’t draw. He just sits there, staring at the paper with his pencil hovering above and _nothing_.  His thoughts are too distracting, so he shucks it under his bed and puffs through half of his pack of cigarettes, trying just to calm the buzz that isn’t welcomed but insists on drumming through him.

It is about seven when Liam finally texts him back and asks if he can come over. Zayn is going to be sick again and not because he is still kind of hungover.

“Come on,” Liam says when Zayn opens the door he had been waiting by since Liam had texted him. Liam’s got a varsity jacket clinging to his shoulders, a school t-shirt underneath that is darkened around the collar like he had just been working out, despite the fact that the weekend is the only time he doesn’t actually have to.

Zayn doesn’t ask where they are going, just grabs his dorm keys and follows Liam out to the truck waiting outside, engine still running like Liam knew he was going to come easily without an explanation.

He takes it as a good sign when Liam helps him in like he normally does, but there is still no smile on his face and he misses it. Misses it more than he has missed Liam over the past two weeks.

The car looks used, for once, with water bottles in the holders between them and a few scattered by Zayn’s feet, next to a crumpled fast food bag and Liam’s sneakers. He wonders if Liam has been in his car all day, because he always takes the trash out when he leaves his car, and it smells like his shoes have been.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says when he joins him in the car, turning the engine on and not looking at Zayn. “I overreacted, last night. I told you I’m a bit possessive and like, I just got kind of mad, you know? When I saw him touching you like that.”

“I didn’t want him to,” Zayn says quietly, looking down at his hands. Liam shouldn’t be the one apologizing. If it was the summer, when things were normal, he would probably like that side of Liam, just with less punches being thrown. Not that he doesn’t like possessive Liam now, it’s just that shit keeps piling up between them and it is starting to make him anxious.

“I know.”

It goes quiet after that and Zayn wishes he could listen to Liam’s old music at that moment, because the silence is deafening. He doesn’t know where they are going. He isn’t familiar enough with the area yet to guess.

They pull into a parking lot and all Zayn can see is a long stretch of grass. “It’s not the beach,” Liam says, turning the engine off. “The state park, but this is where I come to run. It’s almost as nice.”

He helps Zayn out of the car, linking their fingers together. It is getting colder now as the sun disappears, no longer those warm summer nights. He is ready for the leaves to change, and the clutter ground with a multitude of colors.

“It has been weird,” Zayn admits, watching his feet as they walk. “These past two weeks.”

Liam nods. Deep down, Zayn had wanted him to deny it, assure him that it was all in his head. He _needed_ him to deny it. “It’s my fault, I think. I’m sorry. I’m just busy.”

“I know,” Zayn says, squeezing his hand the way Liam always does to assure him. “You’re busy, I’m clingy. We’ll work on it.”

Liam gives him a soft smile. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I will work on it. I like that you’re clingy.”

Zayn stops them. They are on a dirt pathway, surrounded by grass and he can just make out a small pond in the center, surrounded by benches and picnic tables. It is probably beautiful in the day time, when the trees on the far end aren’t as dark and scary. He shivers against Liam, wanting to press against him but Liam shrugs off the jacket he is wearing, slinging it over Zayn’s shoulders.

“Stop apologizing,” he insists, linking the fingers back together. “I should be the one apologizing. For your um, fight last night.”

He is not sure if it is actually considered a fight, since Robert never swung back, but still. If he hadn’t let Harry convince him to dance, or hadn’t drank to get rid of the sour feeling in his stomach about Liam and Marie – or something, he just feels it necessary to apologize.

“Not your fault you’re irresistible,” Liam jokes, pulling him close.

“My fault I was so drunk,” Zayn says sheepishly, resting his cheek against Liam’s shoulder. Liam lets their fingers go, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s upper back.

“Yeah, but it’s okay babe,” Liam mumbles, moving his lips across Zayn’s forehead. “It’s probably more Harry’s fault.”

Zayn snorts. There is no point in denying that.

 

They work on it, saving parts of their days to spend together, even if it’s only for half an hour. It is still infrequent, and usually ends with one or the other rushing to class or practice, but they are working on it.

Zayn spends more nights in his own dorm, either because Liam falls asleep, or doesn’t text him that practice is over, or he just feels bad for keeping Liam up when he has had a long day at school and then practice. He is trying to work on being clingy, plus, Liam gets grumpy, irritable the more tired he gets and on top of the stress building from school for both of them, Zayn rather be alone than to deal with it.

And he feels bad about that, too.

They don’t really have sex, but thankfully Liam doesn’t push off his advances. He just kisses slowly, lazy, until Zayn gets the hint that he is tired and pulls away to curl into Liam’s chest instead.

“That’s cool,” Liam says distractedly. He’s sat at the desk, hunched over a book in front of him, papers scattered all around. Zayn doesn’t mean to keep interrupting him, knowing he has pushed off his homework until after practice, but he will fall asleep soon and Zayn wants to tell him before he forgets. Before Liam agrees to something else and can’t make it.

It is not really that big of a deal though, just a small mock art show where Zayn is showing a few of the drawings he has worked on over the past few weeks. Like a practice run, mostly for the teachers they will have in the next semester, and then next three years. But they are allowed to invite people if they want, and Zayn wants Harry and Liam there.

“It’s okay if you can’t come. Not really like, a big deal or whatever,” Zayn says offhandedly. He tries to keep his voice casual, because he really wants Liam there, actually. He flicks his eyes down to the pad resting on his knees, at the rough sketch of Liam’s back. It is a practice for his later piece, the one he is working on for the actual art show at the end of the year. He needs all the practice he can get, because no matter how many times he tries to sketch out Liam, his work is never as beautiful as the real thing.

“What?” Liam says, looking away from his book and at him, brows pressing together. His cheeks are flushed like whatever it is he is working on is stressing him out. Or maybe it’s Zayn stressing him out, and he is too polite to say so.

“Art show. October fifteenth. Six thirty,” Zayn sighs, stuffing his sketch pad and pencil in his bag. He doesn’t mean to get an attitude, but he is just tired and stressed too. “I said it’s okay if you can’t make it. But if you can I’d like that.”

“Where are you going?” Liam asks, scooching back the chair so he can stand up when Zayn slides off of the bed. He drags a hand down his face, making a noise of frustration. He looks so overwhelmed that it makes Zayn feel bad, but he just can’t deal with it no matter how bad he feels about it. “I’m sorry, Zayn. I’ll be there. I’m just – got a lot –“ he waves at the papers on the desk.

“I get it,” Zayn says, pressing his lips to the round of Liam’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Liam’s fingers are on his wrist before he can make it through the door, tugging him back. “You don’t have to leave.”

“I do,” Zayn tells him softly, smiling still so Liam won’t think he is upset. He is not, not really. Just tired, and needing something he can’t get at the moment, and he is no longer in the mood to beg for it.

Liam lets him go, face falling but he manages a smile when Zayn promises to text him in the morning.

**October**

“Don’t forget, Sunday –“ Zayn says breathlessly, lifting his hips as Liam tugs down the waistband of his briefs. This is the first time Liam has touched him in weeks, and he doesn’t mean to keep fucking talking –

“Mhm,” Liam hums, mouth anchoring Zayn’s hips back against the bed as he tongues at the trail of hair under his navel.

“You don’t have to go –“ Zayn tells him through a groan, wiggling his hips so Liam will move lower, where his cock presses obscenely into the tight of his briefs.

“What?” Liam says, pushing up on his arms and giving Zayn a frustrated look. He can see where Liam’s cock hangs heavy between his legs, tip wet like he is just as eager to get off after weeks of not –

“Nothing,” Zayn says quickly, teeth snatching at his bottom lip. “Can you um, just be gentle with me today?”

Liam gives him a soft smile, leaning down to press his lips gently above Zayn’s navel. “Of course, baby.”

And he is, slowly sinking his lips down Zayn’s cock, letting Zayn work his fingers through hair, guiding his movements. Liam’s fingers circle around Zayn’s thighs, slowly working up his hips and across his torso. Zayn bites his lip, eyes planted on the ceiling as he slowly thrusts into Liam’s mouth, because he can’t quite handle the feeling in his chest when he looks down at him.

 

The art show is here before Zayn realizes time is going by so quickly, and he is kind of freaking out.

His mother helps him put his final piece for the art show together, selecting her favorites from his portfolio and his personal sketch books. It is only for freshman, so Zayn isn’t worried about not being as good as his classmates because they are all starting at the same level, but he still wants to show his best.

Putting it together happens last minute, because he hadn’t gone home until the Friday before his art show. His parents didn’t mind bringing him back to campus a few hours before it started on Sunday because they had to be in Danforth for some achievement award ceremony for Doniya, anyway.

Liam hasn’t texted him back since the morning when he had left the hotel the team had been staying at for their away game. He wants to text him before the show, to make sure that he is coming, but since he has already asked twice this week, and he doesn’t want to be annoying.

He also wanted to know why Liam was still out of town when Niall had gotten back the day before but still, he didn’t want to be annoying.

“Place your display a few feet behind mine.”

“What?” Zayn looks up at the boy next to him. Their displays are lined up side by side, like they are supposed to be. They are just cardboard posters, finished drawings covering them. Except the one in the center, Zayn never ended up finishing. It is just a pencil sketch, and in his head, the final version has more reds and blues.

“Move your display back like, two feet,” the guy insists, hands moving to urge Zayn on. Zayn frowns at him. His wide, electric blue eyes look slightly panicked and there is black smudged on his chin like he had just finished the charcoal piece taped in the middle of his own display. He wears a t-shirt over the tightest jeans Zayn’s ever seen with black and white polka-dot Vans, making Zayn feel overdressed in his pressed button up and khaki pants.

“Why I would I do that?” Zayn says defiantly. He wishes they placed him next to someone else, because even in class, this guy drives him nuts. Louis, he thinks his name is. Or something, he is not really sure. All he knows is the guy never shuts up.

“Because yours are really good and outshining mine. So two feet back, Malik.”

Zayn shoots him a glare before turning away to ignore him. Or attempt to, but it probably isn’t going to be that easy because Louis doesn’t seem to be the type of person who just stops being annoying when you want him too. And his pieces aren’t even bad, they are actually really good and he is not moving his display, thanks.

It is nerve wracking, every time someone walks by with eyes on his artwork. Some teachers stop, jotting down things on the notepads they carry, but never saying much. When they do, Zayn stumbles over answers, not quite able to actually answer the questions because he doesn’t know much and “I dunno, I just drew it,” doesn’t sound quite impressive. And it is worse, every time he does try to answer a question because Louis is watching him, snorting to himself when he stumbles over his words like he thinks Zayn can’t hear him.

And he is distracted too, eyes searching the crowd for those brown eyes that he feels addicted to, because he is always desperate for any amount of time he can get with them. He finds green ones instead, bright and humored, and Zayn kind of loves those ones just as much.

“Wow,” Harry says, voice high and mock professional. He puts a finger under his own chin, peering at the drawings on Zayn’s display, his other moving around in front of him as he talks. “Very nice. I like how you did the thing with the thing.”

Zayn snorts, shoving him playfully. “Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Harry says happily. He reaches out, a finger grazing over the one in the middle. “That’s Liam, isn’t it?”

“Do you really have to ask that?”

Harry grins. “No, I guess not. Did you end up inviting him, by the way?”

“Yeah, I did.” Like eight times.

“Is he coming?”

Zayn shrugs, eyeing the clock. He had told Liam six thirty, and it is getting close to seven. But Liam could be caught up, or something. The art show goes until eight, so there is plenty of time for him to show up.

“Want me to text Niall?” Harry suggests, face softening like he understands. “He wanted to come. You can borrow him for the evening, if you’d like.”

“Can I borrow _you_ for the evening?” Louis slides in, literally sliding from where he was standing to beside them, a grin that makes him look like an asshole taking over his lips.  

Harry looks from Louis to Zayn, an expression on his face like is _this guy for real?_ “I don’t think my boyfriend will like that,” he says sharply.

Zayn almost comments on the fact that Niall isn’t actually his boyfriend, but he doesn’t because he basically is. And if it will get Louis to go away, he is all for it.

_“We just don’t need a label,” Harry had explained to him when he had asked a few months earlier. “We just are, dude. You know?”_

Louis just shrugs like this isn’t a problem. “He can join too. Niall you said? As in Horan? From Danforth? I’m sure he’ll be down.”

Harry puts his hands on his hips, eyes narrowing. He is harmless, a goofball most of the time that looks like he would if he steps on an ant, but sometimes he can look rather frightening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Louis just shrugs, a knowing grin on his face. “He’s a football guy. You know.”

“No,” Harry says firmly, tension building in his jaw when he clenches his teeth. “Who even are you? How do you know Niall?”

“Everyone knows the guys on the team. They are kind of a big deal if you haven’t noticed,” Louis says, frowning at him. “And Louis Tomlinson at your service. _Any_ service you may need, that is.”

“Go away,” Zayn says with a sigh. Harry’s eyes brighten like that amuses him, but he turns to frown at Louis when Zayn gives him an exhausted look.

Liam doesn’t show, and Zayn hates that his hopes are up even that he might come running in last minute when he is taking down his display, or when he is waiting in line to turn it into his professor. Or how he hopes maybe he will see that monster of a truck and Liam outside, waiting for him with an apology.

But he isn’t, and Zayn doesn’t bother calling him, doesn’t go to Liam’s apartment. He texts him _‘are you okay’_ just to make sure he is, even though he knows Niall would let him or Harry know if he isn’t.

_‘ya thx babe miss u’_

Zayn stares at the message for too long of a time before he chucks his phone onto his desk with replying, tugging the layers of blankets over him until he feels like he is truly hiding away. He tries to think of summer, how it felt, so he can get over how it feels now. It doesn’t work.

 

_“Zayn.”_

Zayn groans, smiling into the pillow. The voice is soft, coaxing him awake. He loves the smell of Liam’s cologne, the soft touch of his fingers. How gentle he can be with him, lips moving across his shoulder like a breeze against his skin.

“Zayn, wake up.”

The night before comes crashing down on him before he can even blink his eyes open and he digs further into the pillow, wiggling under the blankets on top of him. The pain is heavy in his chest, tugging at his heart and filling his lungs.

“Go away,” he says sharply, the cold tone of his voice muffled by the pillow.

“C’mon, breakfast on me,” Liam insists, fingers sliding against his scalp. “Or I can join you in bed? I just need you right now -“

“Go away,” Zayn says firmly, rolling over so Liam can see it on his face that he is not joking around, that he is not just saying it because he hates being woken up, though that has never applied to Liam until now. _I just needed you last night,_ he thinks. “Get out of my room.”

He doesn’t mean for his voice to be so harsh, he really didn’t want to be when he had imagined this in his head the night before. But it comes out that way because he is hurt. The ache in his chest really fucking _hurts._ Liam promised he would come, every time he had reminded him and even told Zayn that he understood it was important to him, but he still hadn’t showed.

Liam’s face falls, confusion contorting his features. “What? I don –“

“October fifteenth. Six thirty. My art show. You said you would be there, you weren’t. No explanation and now you are acting like it didn’t happen. So please get the fuck out,” Zayn says. His voice breaks, so he cuts off the rest of the words rumbling around in his mind. He isn’t going to cry in front of Liam, no matter how much he wants to. And he is not going to yell at Liam either, because he is too _tired_ -

Realization crosses Liam’s face and he looks wounded, fingers reaching out towards Zayn that he shies away from, falling back onto the bed and rolling over so his back is facing Liam. If he keeps looking at Liam’s expression he will want to comfort him, but right now he really just needs Liam to _get out_.

“Zayn. I’m sorry,” Liam says softly. He hates how the sound of Liam’s voice makes him feel worse, because it is supposed to be what comforts him. And it is so frustrating, because he doesn’t know when that changed.

“Please leave,” Zayn whimpers, the tears starting to fall before he can stop them. He really doesn’t want Liam to see, because Liam really won’t leave then. He knows Liam cares. That part at least, he has never doubted.

Liam doesn’t move for a while, just sitting there on the bed before finally he gives Zayn a soft, “okay”, and he moves, closing the door gently behind him before he leaves. Zayn considers running after him, dragging him back to bed so he can comfort himself with the strong of Liam’s arms wrapped around him, but he doesn’t.

Harry comes by about an hour later with a coffee in tow, placing it on the desk when Zayn doesn’t move. He curls beside him, fingers scratching through Zayn’s hair. He feels stupid for being upset, but Harry doesn’t say as much, just lets him huff out the few sobs remaining in his chest. He doesn’t know how Harry knew to come, but he guesses Niall probably had something to do with it if Liam had told him.

He leaves his bed around noon, grabbing his sketch pad and heading towards the park that Liam had brought him to before. The weather is starting to get colder, but at least it is quiet, save for the few people running around with their dogs. It is still a lot quieter than his dorm room, and his thoughts, and there is something infinitely beautiful about the color clinging to the trees, reds and yellows piling up on the ground. 

He draws, letting the pencil take over as it works itself over the page. Page, after page until his wrist is starting to hurt and the sun is starting to fall past the horizon. He left his phone in the dorm, and he ignores it when he falls into bed, ready for sleep to take over now that he has been able to clear his mind.

Liam is in his room when he wakes up, and Zayn cusses at himself for never locking his bedroom door and for not telling his roommates to not let Liam into their suite. When Liam had been upset with him, he had given him his space until he was ready to talk. He wishes Liam would do the same for him.

He sits on the chair by the desk, mouth hanging open with his head tilted back against the chair as he sleeps. The clock blinks ten, and Zayn gets up to rattle him awake because he had a class at nine thirty.

“Liam, you’re late,” Zayn tells him softly when Liam’s eyes blink open, eye brows pushing together in confusion. He looks lost, looking around the room like he doesn’t know where he is, hand dragging across the short hairs at the top of his head.

“M’not going,” Liam mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. Zayn takes a few steps back, not wanting to be near Liam, but finding the urge to wrap his arms around him hard to resist. He had been hoping his anger would dissipate while he had slept, but it hadn’t. “I want to apologize.”

“You don’t have to,” Zayn says quickly, as a force of habit. No, he should, actually.

“I do,” Liam insists, standing up from the chair. He looks groggy from sleep, but desperate for Zayn to listen. “I am really fucking sorry, Zayn. You said it wasn’t important, and I know it was just you saying that, but I fucking forgot and I feel like shit. I don’t mean for that to sound like I am trying to make you feel bad for me or whatever. I shouldn’t have told you I could come, but it just slipped my mind. I’ve been so distracted -”

“It’s fine,” Zayn says shortly. He doesn’t want to fight, he just wants to let his anger sizzle out and then shit can go back to normal. “I have to get ready for class though, so if you’re done –“

“Zayn.” It sounds like he is pleading, but Zayn doesn’t want to hear it. Liam’s apology hadn’t made him feel better, even if he had been sincere. And maybe that is unfair on his part, but right now he doesn’t care.

“We can talk later,” Zayn says, grabbing a towel from on top of his dresser to make a point.

Liam looks at him hard for a long moment, and they just stare at each other until Liam huffs out a breath and leaves.

 

“You should have put your display behind mine like I suggested,” Louis says when Zayn enters class. He tries to sit away from him, but the only unoccupied seat is beside him. Of course.

“I’m not in the mood,” Zayn warns him, pulling out his books and plopping them on the table. After Liam had left, he had texted Zayn to come over later so they could talk and his cell phone is burning away in his pocket, demanding that he respond back.

“This is a good thing though,” Louis tells him, rubbing his back like they are friends. He makes a cooing sound and Zayn might kick him out of his seat if he doesn’t leave him be. “You were chosen for spot one for the art show.”

“What?” Zayn gasps, looking at Louis in disbelief. Spot one is the first display, the biggest display. The first one everyone will see when they walk into the exhibit. He narrows his eyes suddenly, considering Louis could be messing with him.

Louis nods, that smug smile on his lips as he jerks his head towards a sheet of paper tacked to the board. Their professor isn’t here yet, but this is one of the most common used art rooms, and he vaguely remembers seeing the same flyers in the hallway.

He gets up, eyeing his name next to spot one, at the top of the list. Louis hadn’t been just messing with him. His stomach rolls around uncomfortably because that is pressure he can’t handle, even if the show isn’t until May. His classmates have been talking about it since it was announced that the night before would determine their spots at the art show, but he hadn’t cared. He didn’t care where his spot was.

He kind of cares now, though.

“Congratulations, Mr. Malik,” his professor says as walks up to him. He is a thin guy, with jet black hair swooped up into a quiff and thick framed glasses resting on his nose. When he had peered over them at Zayn’s drawings the night before, it had made him nervous. “It was an easy choice,” He says quietly, glancing at the rest of the students with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t,” Zayn stutters out. “I don’t deserve that.”

His professor frowns at him, showing his age as the wrinkles around his mouth deepen. “You do. It was unanimous. The whole board thought you would be the best for the part. When you have your meeting with Professor Higgins to discuss it, I suggest you say thank you instead of that.”

It is not harsh, but Zayn grimaces with an apology and a small thank you before he takes his seat again. Louis whispers something to him that he ignores. He wishes this would wash away all the bad feelings going through him, but it just adds to them.

He calls his mom, bringing up her phone number before he is out of the classroom when class ends. He just saw her the day before, but he needs her -

“Hey sunshine,” his mom greets, answering after three rings.

“I won spot one for my art show,” he says quickly, aware that his voice doesn’t sound as excited as it should sound.

“That is wonderful, love,” she responds with excitement. “Your father and I are so proud of you. When is it? I cannot wait. Are we allowed to invite people? Your aunts –“

“Mom,” Zayn groans, stopping her before she can continue. Knowing her, the studio will be filled with nothing but the Malik and Brannan family, and half of Bradford. “No.”

She sighs. “Fine, fine. But you are going to have to listen to them complain about you not inviting them. I’m not doing it.”

“I know.”

“What else is it that you have called to tell me?” Her voice softens, and it takes over that sound of knowing it always has when he isn’t telling her something. He didn’t call for her motherly advice, just for the soft sound of her voice. “Is everything alright?”

“Nothing, just that. Everything else is fine.”

She clicks her teeth. “When you’re ready then, love. Remember, I know everything.”

He doesn’t argue, hanging up with an _I love you_ and a _see you later_.

 

Harry goes with him to Liam’s apartment after football practice with an excuse that he is going to see Niall, but Zayn feels like he can sense how nervous Zayn is, and is there for support. It feels like he is standing on top of all the shit that has piled up over the last few weeks, and it is about to crumble, dragging him down with it.

“He is in his room,” Niall tells him as he walks in. Zayn nods, not liking the way Niall is looking at him. It is not Niall’s characteristic friendly look, but cut off. He rather Niall glare at him or something than look emotionless.

His heart is in his throat when he knocks softly, pushing the cracked door open more to step through. Liam is sitting on his bed, fingers flat against his thighs, tapping them against his pants. His eyes are red rimmed, and if that wasn’t enough to confirm Zayn’s suspicions, the look on Liam’s face when he stands and the way his lip trembles does. His shoulders slump, and for a moment, Zayn feels like the bigger of the two.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says again for the second time that day as Zayn walks in, closing the door behind himself. For the hundredth time over the past couple of weeks. “I am really sorry I missed your show.”

“Why did you?” Zayn asks. He knows Liam said he forgot, but he had also said he should have told Zayn he couldn’t come. Every single time? It’s hard to believe, but Liam has been so out of it lately.

“I had to take Sophia to a doctor’s appointment,” Liam tells him, dragging a hand through his hair, face flustered and hesitant. “It was earlier in the day but it went over, and I should have told you about it. I don’t have a reason for not telling you, it just slipped my mind. I’ve been so nervous over it, I tried to forget about it, and I guess I did.”

Guilt fills Zayn and he wants to be sick. “Liam – Liam, that’s okay.”

“It’s not, though,” Liam insists, taking a step forward, reaching out like he is going to touch him but his arms fall to his sides. “Whether it is a good reason or not, you still would have been disappointed that I couldn’t have made it, and don’t say you wouldn’t have been, Zayn. Because I see the look on your face when I am too busy or too tired, and I know you understand, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you any less.”

Zayn nods, teeth nipping into his bottom lip because it is starting to tremble. Liam’s eyes are watering, and he thinks that is what is causing the ache in his chest. Or the fact that Liam just gets it, without Zayn having to explain it to him, even if it took him a while to even get the fact that there was a problem.

Or maybe it is the fact that there even _is_ a problem, and they are both noticing it, which means it hasn’t all just been in Zayn’s head.  

“What are you saying?” Zayn says quietly. Liam is right. He would still be disappointed if Liam had told him about Sophia’s surgery beforehand. Just not _mad_ about it. Just like he gets that Liam doesn’t mean to be so busy and preoccupied all the time.

Liam finally touches him, pinching his chin and pulling their lips together. It isn’t rough, it’s gentle, way too gentle and Zayn fucking hates it, because he can feel the wet of Liam’s cheeks, the salt on his lips.

“I’m saying,” Liam says quietly, pulling away but keeping his fingers under Zayn’s chin. “That I can’t handle the fact that I keep upsetting you, but I can’t change that. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Zayn insists. He wants to shove Liam back, make him shut up before he can get to the point. Do _something_ , because panic is starting to grip at his chest. That pile they built it starting to shake, getting ready to fall- “I understand. Liam, I get it.”

“You don’t,” Liam says with a sigh, letting go of Zayn. “I think it’s best if we just –“

“No.” Zayn spits. Even when he had been his angriest, he hadn’t considered what he knows is coming. His voice comes out frantic and Liam flinches. “You said you don’t want to upset me, Liam. Well, I hate to break it to you but I know what you are going to say and that shit would upset me.”

“But that’s what I mean,” Liam says in frustration, voice increasing in volume. “You know it is coming. That means there is a problem here Zayn. A problem I can’t fix. Do you really just want to wait around until it gets worse and then we end up hating each other or something? Because I fucking don’t.”

Zayn stares at him. He wants to say it is something that is not up to Liam to fix, that it is something that they can work on. But they have tried that. He wants to say anything that would get that broken, frustrated look of Liam’s face but anything that would do that would minimize the situation, make it seem like it doesn’t exist. And then Zayn would have to deal with it again.

And he might end up hating Liam for it, and himself. Liam is right, again.

Liam drags a hand down his face, shoulders tensing. He doesn’t look at Zayn for a long moment and Zayn can’t stop staring, struggling to find something to say.

“Okay,” he says finally, just to break the silence. “But you are going to have to be the one to say it because I’m not. I can’t, Liam.”

_“You said you’ll be mine. Just so you know. No takesy-backsy.”_

_“Same goes to you.”_

Liam stares at him this time, mouth opening a few times before he finally does say it. Zayn thought it would be easier to hear than say, but it isn’t. It fucking tears at his chest, clogs up his throat and he wraps his arms around himself until his hands are snuggled in his armpits because he feels like if he doesn’t he might literally fall apart.

“I think we should break up, before this gets worse and you end up hating me because I can’t be what you need. I hate the idea of you being anything other than happy. How do you think it feels to know I’m the reason you’re not? Zayn -”

“Stop,” Zayn says, closing his eyes, holding a hand up so Liam will shut up. He is going to be sick or something with the way his heart is pounding against his sternum, and he isn’t sure which feeling hurts worse, the anger or the heartbreak. “Did you think breaking up with me would make me feel better? You said no takesy-backsy, Liam. Might sound stupid but I was kind of holding you to that promise.”

“What do you want me to do?” Liam bellows.

Zayn’s lips slap shut, because Liam doesn’t stop. His voice doesn’t get higher, but it feels like each word pierces against his skin.

“Would you like me to pretend I don’t notice how upset you get? I’m acknowledging it, Zayn, and I’m telling you I can’t fix it. Would you like me to pretend I don’t so I can keep doing it?”

“Okay,” Zayn says numbly, jerking his head into a nod.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says, reaching out for him again, voice quieter now.

Zayn nods, ignoring the way Liam’s voice breaks because he wants to comfort him, wants Liam to comfort him, but he can’t have that.

He turns and leaves before Liam can say anything else, doesn’t want to hear anything about _let’s be friends_ , or any other shit like that. He walks through the living room without a word or glance at Harry and Niall. He doesn’t want them to see the way his face betrays any emotion he is feeling.

Harry catches up with him though when he is half way down Liam’s street, an arm around his shoulder to redirect him to his dorm instead of Everton, where he had been heading. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t let Zayn smoke more than two cigarettes like he intends to.

“He broke up with me,” Zayn tells him as Harry guides him inside. “He low key pulled the ‘it’s me not you’ line.”

“What a fucking cock,” Harry coos softly, helping him out of his jacket. He expects Harry to say something along the lines that he knew this was going to happen, that’s why he went to Liam’s with him, right? But he doesn’t, and Zayn knows no matter how many times he says he hates Harry, Harry is his best friend and he loves him. 

Zayn lies in Harry’s bed, keeping his jeans on because he doesn’t care. Harry curls up beside him, fingers softly brushing through his hair again.

“You know,” Zayn says tiredly, and he isn’t quite sure Harry is awake or listening, but he goes on anyway. “I had been thinking I would rather be alone than deal with how cranky he gets but I don’t think that is true.”

“I know,” Harry says softly.

“I’m too clingy. I expect too much from him.”

“Did he say that?” Harry’s tone is harsher then it was before, taking on that protective best friend tone and Zayn shakes his head quickly.

“No, no. He said he doesn’t like that he is too busy and he knows I get upset by it. And he doesn’t want to upset me anymore, doesn’t want me to hate him because he can’t change it.” But in Zayn’s head that sounds more like, ‘I’m busy and you’re clingy.’

Harry stays quiet for a long moment before he says, “It’s true though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t make it feel any better, though.”

 

He convinces his parents to pick him up and bring him home for the weekend again. They don’t ask, but his mother puts in a lot of effort to make sure he is okay in little mom ways. Checking up on him while he is in his room, letting Safaa stay up past her bedtime so they can finish watching the third season of Spongebob, bringing him coffee Saturday morning when he wakes up. They don’t mention Liam, except for Safaa, but his parents don’t ask about him at all and Zayn figures they probably already know. That Doniya probably told them, because even she goes out of her way to check up on him too often to be normal.

Between the break up and going home, Doniya hasn’t let him be. Constantly in his room, or making him come to the dance studio with her, texting him throughout the day about how he is doing, or how is day is going. He doesn’t mind because his sisters had always been his source of comfort before Liam had been.

When he gets back to school, he finds a job on campus so he can start saving up for his own car, so he can go home whenever he wants. It’s a job in Professor Higgins’ art studio, stocking it with supplies and keeping it clean, being there if other students need help. He isn’t sure why Higgins has so much faith in his abilities since he is just a first semester freshman, but he goes along with it.

Liam doesn’t talk to him and he doesn’t try to get him to, either.

**November**

Zayn spends his free time in the art studio even when is not working, sketching out ideas that end up crumpled and in the trash. Nothing feels right, and it is frustrating, even though he has until May to come up with something. He just needs an idea so he will have plenty of time to actually work on the piece.

He draws Liam. Even if he doesn’t mean to, the pencil always sketches out the muscular back, the curve of his full lips, the thick of his brows. It is the only time he gets to see him, and his chest aches every time he pulls back to look at the finished piece. Because it is not the same. Not only can Zayn not quite capture how beautiful he is, it doesn’t come with the other little pieces of Liam that Zayn loves. Like the under the chin touches, the cologne, the crinkled eyes and the sound of his laugh-

They are avoiding each other, and Zayn isn’t sure whose fault that is. He doesn’t go to Danforth, doesn’t go to any of the football games and makes Doniya or Harry come to Everton if they want to hang out. So it is probably him who is doing the avoiding, but he has no clue what he would do if he were to run into Liam. Smile awkwardly like they know each other but never talk? Like he does with his classmates? Just thinking about that hurts, makes him nervous and kind of sick feeling.

He visits Sophia a lot. Though at first, he hadn’t been sure if that was okay. Mrs. Smith had been as kind as always, telling him how excited Sophia would be to see him. And she was, smiling so excitedly that Zayn couldn’t help but smile himself. They don’t talk much when he is there, but he always goes when Liam has a game, to assure Liam won’t be there, and they watch it together. Sophia cheers whenever they call his name, and when they win, she always places her hand on Zayn’s, fingers flexing like she is trying to squeeze them.

Winter break is coming up and he is desperate for it. He needs his mom, his little sisters. Doniya isn’t going to be there at first. She is traveling with the team to the state conference championship if the team makes it through the semifinals, which Zayn is pretty sure they will. Liam had invited him, through Doniya, and he doesn’t know what that means but he hates it.

“Zayn,” Higgins says, pulling him away from the piece he is hunched over. No one else is in the studio, and his shift ended a few hours ago but he hadn’t wanted to leave. It is cold outside and he is avoiding Harry, who is trying to get him to go out with him again. Zayn is kind of tired of it, the constant partying. Even when he isn’t at a party, the rest of the dorm is and they are loud. He doesn’t understand how people can do that every week, sometimes more than once.

And he hates drinking, yet every time they go out he does so he doesn’t feel awkward, and he is afraid that alcohol and his ongoing mood will equal bad. He hasn’t gone to any parties, hasn’t drank since Liam and him broke up for that reason mostly. And he just doesn’t want to be around people.

Halloween had been the worst, especially on Everton’s campus because all the art majors decided they could have a costume competition with Danforth, and he saw at least three naked butts from his dorm window. One of which might have been Harry’s.

“Yes Professor?”

He is a big guy, a bit chubby, tall and broad in the shoulders and looks scary as hell, but he has a smile that reminds him of his Baba, brightening his face and making him look like a big kid who beats up bullies. He is easy to work for too, never asking him to do much or getting on his case when he forgets something, because it took Zayn forever to remember where all of the supplies went, and Higgins couldn’t find anything for like two weeks.

“I have watched you draw the same thing for weeks now before you crumple it up and trash it,” Higgins points out. “What isn’t right about it?”

Zayn looks down at his paper. He hadn’t even realized the moment he had been drawing, Liam in his uniform, helmet in his hand as he walks off of the field, which right now is just a scribble behind him. He has drawn that smile, the one that Zayn calls his _football smile_. It’s not as half as beautiful as the real life one.

“There is nothing wrong with it, Professor,” he tries. “Just trying to get it out of my system.”

Higgins comes over, sitting in the chair beside Zayn as he studies it. “It’s the same man from your display? The black and white drawing?” Zayn nods. “That drawing was what made you stand out. I thought it was interesting, how everything else you drew was full of bright color, but that one wasn’t. And you chose it for your center piece.”

He chose it for his center piece because it was the only one he had drawn of Liam at the time, he thinks. “It should have been the only one _in_ color,” Zayn tells him. Everything is dull in comparison to Liam. Even the sun that used to soak his skin when they were on the beach together couldn’t quite compare to him. The colors of fall are beautiful but Zayn rather recreate Liam again, using the same shades. The red of the lips, gold in his eyes -

When Zayn looks up, Higgins is looking at him, patience on his face. “Can I get the scale of the display again, please?”

 

Harry finally convinces him to come to a party with him again. Exams are coming up, and the next two weeks are going to be filled with nothing but that and work at the art studio and Harry uses that to his advantage, telling Zayn he needs to just release all the bad in him before he tries to tackle the next thing.

He knows it is a bad idea the moment he steps in and sees Doniya, Andy’s arm slung over her shoulders. They are talking to a few of the other football guys and yeah, Zayn needs to leave.

Harry seems to read this on his face, because he shakes his head quickly. “Oh no, Zayn. You are not leaving. You probably won’t even see him, and if you do, put a smile on your face and fucking dance. Let him know his life sucks without you.”

Zayn frowns at him and Harry shrugs. “It seemed like the right thing to say,” he laughs, tugging Zayn past his sister and her friends. He doesn’t want Liam’s life to suck at all, because his kind of does without Liam, and he hates it. He doesn’t want Liam to know what that feels like, at all.

Every person they push past he expects to be Liam. Disappointment replaces his nerves every time he sees it isn’t him, and he doesn’t hesitate to grab for a closed bottle once they are in the kitchen.

Harry meets up with some guy, Jack, that Zayn remembers seeing from when he used to visit Danforth’s campus to hang out with Harry. He wears a Danforth Ducks football jersey, an all black fanny pack on his waist that Zayn doesn’t mean to frown judgmentally at but he does.

“Jack,” Harry explains to Zayn, clapping Jack hard on the shoulder. “Is a piece of shit. He thinks he is an entrepreneur. Don’t ever ask him to go into detail about whatever it is that he chooses to sell at the time. He won’t shut up about it, and your pockets will be empty before you leave. Got Niall for fifty bucks, for – what was it again?”

Jack snickers. “One of those balance bracelets things.”

“Yeah, absolute shit.”

Jack grins proudly. “I’m not selling anything today, Harold. I’m taking bets for the semi-finals. No bets on who is going to win though, Danforth is a shoe in to win. The Cougars’ record is nothing compared to our Ducks. We are just talking most interceptions, yardage, touchdowns, maybe field goals -just who will take home the most points. You want in?”

Harry glances at Zayn quickly. “Andy for interceptions. Ten on Payne taking the most points.”

Jack pulls out a tiny notepad from his fanny pack, scribbling on it before looking back up at Harry. “Obviously. Be specific, how many points?”

“Insane,” Harry says, eyes widening. “Who is betting on that?”

Jack shows him the notepad, and Zayn can make out first and last names and ‘Payne’ scribbled on each line with different numbers across from each one. Pride swells in Zayn’s chest as he sees just how many people really did bet on Liam. “Lots of people. We can’t have any winners if everyone just bets on Payno taking the most points. And honestly, I probably wouldn’t let you dip in if you don’t go Payne, because that means you are crazy.”

“Well I’m not making that bet,” Harry says adamantly, but Zayn knows with a few beers in him he will be finding this Jack guy later with a number. “I should just bet on Niall so when he surprises you all, I can get everyone’s money.”

Jack snorts, looking at him like he highly disbelieves that Niall will take the most points home. “My point proven. Bat shit crazy.”

Jack holds a hand out to Zayn, ignoring the glare that Harry sends his way. “Well, anyway. Jack Whitehall. Don’t listen to Harry. He loves to tarnish my reputation.”

“Harry is meanest to the ones he holds closest,” Zayn jokes, shaking his hand. “Zayn Malik.”

“Pleasure to finally meet you. Do you want to make any bets? On Liam, I’m assuming –“

Harry elbows him roughly, making the other man gasp out in pain. “You tarnish your own reputation, asshole,” Harry says, turning to give Zayn an apologetic look.

Jack raises his brows. “Shit. My bad. That totally slipped my mind. I swear I just meant – you know, never mind. I can write your bet down now without any down payment, and just take the full payment later as an apology -”

Harry shakes his head, grabbing Zayn’s elbow. “See you later, Jack.” A few steps away, voice quieter, Harry says, “I was hoping he had some tree to sell. Not football bets.”

“Does everyone know about Liam and I?” Zayn says instead of commenting on that. Harry should probably find someone else to buy drugs from, if that guy always puts everything in his fanny pack. Just the fanny pack alone is a bit suspicious. “That we broke up?”

Harry gives him a sheepish look. “Everyone knows Liam, of course. He is Captain. And okay, everyone knows you were dating Liam because he made you off limits during the hazing. But I don’t think everyone knows you broke up. Jack doesn’t count, he knows everyone’s business.”

“Hazing?” Zayn balks. “Rewind.”

“Seniors hazing freshman? It’s stupid, I don’t think Liam participates, don’t worry. But he made you off limits,” Harry explains. He gives Zayn a tired look when Zayn continues to look at him, waiting for him to explain. “It’s not even important, Zayn. It was like, two months ago.”

Zayn frowns against the lip of his bottle. He thought Harry meant recently. But even it had been, that doesn’t mean it means anything. He hadn’t doubted the fact that Liam cares about him before, until as of late. Liam wanted to break up so they wouldn’t hate each other but they haven’t even talked. Liam has done nothing to reach out to him. And yeah, Zayn hasn’t either, but it wasn’t him who had ended the relationship.

He kind of just needs to know if Liam misses him as much as he misses Liam.

“Come on,” Harry sighs, tugging him out of the kitchen. “Hold me over the keg.”

 

A few hours later, Zayn realizes he really does need to find a new best friend, one who he can trust, and who won’t try to convince him that _one more_ won’t hurt. Because it does hurt, it is a crippling feeling seeping through his body, on top of the fact that the room is spinning.

It started the moment they found Niall, a happy grin on his face even for Zayn. He slides his snapback over Zayn’s quiff and Zayn takes it as some weird friend ritual to say they are okay even though Liam and he aren’t. Harry frowns at and snatches off.

“Hey,” Zayn manages, lips feeling like they are made of sand paper and kind of swollen. “That is a signal of me and Nialler’s friendship.”

“Symbol,” Niall corrects, followed by a crack of laughter. “That we are okay. Always friends, dude.”

“Dude,” Zayn repeats, punching Niall in the shoulder. He stumbles some, and Niall’s arm goes around his waist.

“Liam is going to kill me because of you Harry,” he thinks he hears Niall say before Niall lets him go. “Let’s get you home.”

Harry tugs the snapback off Zayn’s head, frowning before he puts it onto his own. “That’s mine,” he says, turning to Niall.

They turn into each other in that way that they do. Zayn waits for a bit, wondering when they are going to notice he there, or well, he starts to forget why he is waiting for them since  - oh they are making out now.

He wonders if Liam and him were ever like that, making others feel like a third wheel.

And once the thought is in his head, summer Liam, promising to make Niall and Harry’s life a living hell with gentle touches and putting their lips on each other whenever the opportune arose just to gross Niall and Harry out the way they get grossed out, it is all he can think about and it bites at his insides, making him feel sick again.

He walks away, pushing through the crowd with too much alcohol in his system to form a straight line. Laughter bubbles past his lips because he feels pathetic, and drunk. God, how did he get so drunk-

“Hey.”

Zayn laughs in response, trying to focus on the man in front of him. He is not familiar, but he is pretty so Zayn manages a, “Hey back.”

The man laughs. “I’ve been trying to get up the courage to come up and talk to you. Well, to ask you to dance, really.”

“Me?”

The man nods. “Yeah. Unless like, you’re not into guys?”

“I am.”

“So that dance then?”

Zayn looks at him, considering. _Fuck it,_ he thinks, grabbing the man’s wrist and tugging him onto the dance floor. Maybe a press of a body, hands roaming around his own, will help him clear his head more than the alcohol.

And Liam kind of fucked up his sex drive over the summer, and his dick hasn’t gotten used to the lack of warm, strong hands with thick fingers wrapped around it constantly yet.

This time he doesn’t hold back because there is no longer a reason too. He grinds his hips forward against the man whose name he doesn’t know, who grips too tightly on Zayn’s waist, lips feeling dirty where they press against his neck but Zayn doesn’t care. The alcohol courses through his system, every thought too blurry to stay focused on for too long. But he can focus on the feeling, the way his cock fattens with every press of hips. The man is attractive, thick build with a coarse beard that is maybe a little too big, but he doesn’t care. He could probably press him into the mattress just as roughly as Liam can.

His kiss is too rough, though, no underlying gentleness like he craves. There is too much teeth and the man must be just as drunk as Zayn is because he makes out with his cheek for about ten seconds but it makes him laugh. The man whispers ‘come back to mine’ in his ear and Zayn finds himself nodding, letting the man slide their fingers together and pull him out of dense crowd surrounding them.

Maybe feeling like someone else wants him will help him get over the fact that Liam doesn’t. Hopefully, maybe, and if not at least it will relieve the ache in his cock.

He leans closer to the man’s back, smelling his awful cologne, once they are through the crowd of people. He can feel the cold from outside already seeping in, and it feels so nice.

“Zayn.”

He freezes, the voice sliding a comfort through him. God he has missed that voice. He closes his eyes, wishing his brain would stop making him think of Liam all of the time. He is starting to get sick of it, the way his brain makes him feel things he doesn’t want to feel anymore. He just needs to be distracted, but _nope._ Maybe he really is losing it after all.

“What is it?” The man holding his hand says when Zayn stops walking with him. He looks at Zayn for a moment, and fuck, Zayn doesn’t want to leave with him. He definitely is drunk if he thinks being with someone else will make him want Liam less. This guy looks like a lumberjack and smells like axe body spray. He probably has a truck, but one with fast food wrappers covering the floor from the last five years.

“He isn’t leaving with you, so I would let go of his hand, please.”

Zayn opens his eyes. That familiar voice again. There’s a hand sliding around his lower back, and through his clothes he can pretend it is those thick fingers –

“I’m not going to ask twice. Fuck off, bro.”

The man he is with lets his fingers go, frowning at Zayn like Zayn scorned him and he just stares back, rubbing the sweat of his palm down his jeans. He doesn’t think it was him who spoke. God, he misses Liam.

“Come on, Zayn.”

Zayn turns around then and Liam is in front of him, a mean look on his face and he forgets that the other man is there until he says, “Excuse you –“

“I said fuck off,” Liam says, voice cold and threatening, leaving no room for argument. He curls an arm around Zayn’s back, pulling him close. He feels so small, and he missed that. “Don’t find someone else to take advantage of, either. Get the fuck out of here. Or you can decide whether you want me to kick your ass or Tom, since this is his house.”

Zayn doesn’t look back at the man, just staring up at Liam’s face until it relaxes. His fingers work at the muscles of Zayn’s back when he says, “Come on. Let’s go.”

He knows he should push Liam off, not take in the warmth radiating off his body. But he is going to let himself have this, just for the moment. He will deal with the regret later. He touches Liam’s face gently, trying to figure out if Liam is really there, or if his mind just took a whole new turn to fuck with him.

“Do you have your dorm keys?” Liam asks softly, fingers pressing under his chin. They are so close, Zayn could probably just accidentally let their lips brush -

“Mm, no,” Zayn lies.

Liam gives him a look filled with frustration, but he lets Zayn cling onto him as they walk down the road so he takes it for a win.

His apartment is the same, though Zayn hadn’t really expected it to change any. It smells the same, and his pillows smell like that green apple shampoo Liam uses so he buries his face in them the moment Liam lays him back to take off his shoes.

“Water on the table. Goodnight, Zayn.”

The lights are off, just the light from the window, but he can feel that Liam is close enough because his lips skate across Zayn’s cheek and he reaches out for him, fisting the front of his shirt once he makes contact.

“Can you stay? I will stay over on this side.”

Zayn wonders if his voice sounds as small as it does right now all of the time, or if it is because he feels like he is telling Liam a secret, sharing something with him that he doesn’t want the other boy to know that he feels.

Liam sighs, pressing their foreheads for a long moment. Zayn just waits, closes his eyes and inhales Liam until his head is spinning and he might be sick, but Liam is pulling away with an agreement on his tongue before he does.

There isn’t much space between them at all, really, just a tiny hair of space between their arms. It is tense, and Liam isn’t snoring so Zayn knows he is awake, staring at the ceiling above him just like he is.

“How drunk are you?” Liam whispers.

“Pretty drunk,” Zayn huffs out, not quite sure if Liam had even spoke, or if his mind had just created that because he wants Liam to say something.

“Okay.” And then there is an arm curling around him, tugging him closer until his cheek is pressed against the thin fabric covering the hard of Liam’s chest. Zayn slides his arm hesitantly up the man’s torso, relaxing once he realizes that Liam isn’t actually going to tell him this is a joke and he has to go back to where he was.

Liam’s fingers card through his hair when he softly says, “Now go to sleep, Zayn.”

 

Zayn is pretty sure he is still drunk when he wakes up, his head hurting and room spinning, the scent of Liam completely surrounding him. Yeah, definitely still drunk because his bed really doesn’t smell like Liam anymore. Only sometimes, if Zayn tries hard enough to imagine it.

It takes him a minute to realize the bed smells like Liam because it _is_ Liam’s bed that he is laying in. Liam’s too heavy of a comforter covering his shoulders.  He rolls to his back, spreading the wide of his hand across the empty space beside him where the blanket isn’t covering. The sheets are warm, like someone slept there.

He groans, biting his tongue. He doesn’t feel sore anywhere, except for in his chest, so that should be a good sign. If Liam wanted to mess around after all this time of not talking, sober or drunk, Zayn would do it. He knows that. He _knows_ that he would do it and then regret it later.

When he stands, his head spins and he takes his time. His shoes are on the floor, jeans folded neatly on top of them, and his jacket hanging on the desk chair. He takes this in before he gets up and puts them on, eyeing the door when his hand slides over a shirt that isn’t his on the ground beside his things and he shoves it into his jacket.

“Hey. Sneaking out?”

Niall looks at him from the kitchen table as he walks down the hallway, a teasing grin on his face and Zayn freezes, mouth falling open. “Well-“

“Not right now, Niall,” Liam says with a yawn, walking into view from the living room. Niall’s face falls, and he looks at Liam warily before attending to his plate of food.

He looks tired, face pale and the skin under his eyes dark. His hair is getting longer at the top, which Zayn knew because he watches all of his games, and pays extra close attention to the television when Liam is interviewed after a win.

“Come on,” Liam says, sliding an arm around his back and guiding him towards the door. Zayn is definitely going to throw up, or something because the pace of his heart is going straight to his temple, and it feels like a knife is stabbing him there. It is so tense, and Liam is touching him, after weeks of being apart and Zayn realizes how badly he has needed that touch, even if it isn’t comforting anymore.

“Did we um,” Zayn starts, turning to him before Liam can open the front door. He eyes Niall sheepishly, who puts up his hands and leaves the room, mumbling something about letting them have their privacy.

“We just slept,” Liam assures him, fingers scratching against his thick eyebrows like he is frustrated. Zayn trusts that he is genuine. He sounds just as tired as he looks and Zayn just trusts Liam, even after everything. “I brought you here because you said you didn’t have your dorm keys but I found them in your jacket pocket.”

“Oh,” Zayn responds, not surprised. “Well. Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t get drunk like that,” he scolds, and there is something in his eyes that reminds him of the way Liam looked when he broke up with him. Irritated and upset. “Something bad could have happened if Niall hadn’t called me.”

He doesn’t even remember seeing Niall, but he doesn’t admit it. And he wishes he knew what made Liam think something bad could have happened. “I know.”

“No one would notice if you didn’t drink at those parties. No one cares. You don’t have to do it to fit in. I know you’re young Zayn, but eventually you’ll see that. None of them matter if there is something you don’t want to do, then don’t do it.”

Zayn isn’t sure if he means to be harsh but Zayn kind of wants to punch him if he is being honest, and that is probably the reason behind the harshness of his tone. Even if that is why he does drink, and Liam is completely right, Liam isn’t allowed to lecture him about it. Or bring up the fact that he is younger, because he always has kind of hated that. “Kind of have to do it to forget about you, though.”

Liam’s lips press together tightly and he glares at Zayn. He hates that look being directed at him and his shoulders slump, an apology starting to form on his lips before Liam interrupts.

“I need my shirt back,” Liam says instead of commenting on Zayn’s admission.

Zayn gives him a guilty look, fingers reaching to unzip his jacket when Liam says, “The red and black plaid one? From that night on the beach?”

“There were a lot of nights on the beach,” Zayn says quickly. No, no, _no_ that is his favorite shirt. Liam cannot have that one.

Liam drags fingers through the hair at the top of his head. “You know which shirt I mean, Zayn,” he says like he doesn’t have the patience for him. 

“You can’t have that one,” Zayn says instead of trying to deny the fact that he does actually know what Liam is talking about. “I have like, a closet full of your clothes. I’ll send every piece back. Just not that one.”

“I don’t want those,” Liam insists, no longer sounding tired but irritated. “I just need the –“

“Too bad.” He feels like a child, throwing a tantrum in a store because his mother won’t buy him a toy he wants. He crosses his arms. It had been annoying, when Liam had brought up how young he was a second ago and he knows he is proving Liam’s point. “See you later, Liam. Thank you for letting me stay and making sure my foolish young self didn’t get into any danger.”

And he tears off, not looking back to see if Liam waits for him to turn around again.

When he gets to his dorm, he tears all of Liam’s clothes out of his drawers, taking them out from underneath his bed and shucking off the ones on the hangers and shoving them into one of the boxes he still has from moving in. His roommates probably think he is losing it when they walk by with alarmed expressions, as he lets out broken sobs with every piece he throws into a box because it hurts. Those are tiny pieces of Liam, the only thing he has left –

Harry doesn’t ask why Zayn is making him bring a box to Liam’s apartment, and he doesn’t comment on the fact that Zayn clutches onto the plaid shirt that he wears over the t-shirt he just stole from Liam like he is afraid Harry might rip it off his body.

He feels ridiculous, childish, and completely, one hundred percent heart broken.

**December**

On the last official day of the semester, the day after Zayn’s last exams, he sits on Sophia’s bed, a pad on his lap as he draws. Everything is packed in his dorm, ready to go back home for the break. Harry’s parents are coming to pick them up tomorrow, after Harry gets back from the semi-finals.

Sophia’s eyes are latched on the television, making it easy to draw her. She cheers like always when they call Liam’s name, and Zayn grips his pencil a bit tighter when she does. He wishes he could capture just how much she glows when watching the game on the piece of paper, but he will work on it.

“Are they winning?” Zayn asks after she cheers again.

“It’s Liam,” Sophia retorts and Zayn snorts out his laughter. He can’t stomach when anyone talks about Liam, even Harry, but it is different with Sophia. Sophia, who reminds him every time he comes that Zayn is beautiful, and too frequently refers to him as _Liam’s Zayn_. Sophia, who is one of the most important people in Liam’s life. It should hurt, but it doesn’t. He actually craves being around her. And maybe that is because of her connection to Liam.

He moves his attention to the blank space when he finishes drawing her, no longer needing to look at Sophia. This part he has etched into his memory, and his pencil moves along the paper easily, only flinching sometimes when Sophia suddenly speaks.

“What’s your favorite color?” Zayn asks, tugging out his colored pencils from his backpack. Sophia is silent for a moment before she says, “Green.”

The game is almost over by the time he finishes his drawing, and he waits for it to switch to commercial before he shows it to her. Her mouth falls open, eyes brightening when she glances from the paper to Zayn.

In the drawing she sits in the chair she is sitting in now, the same bright smile on her face and Liam kneels in front of her, finger ticking under her chin like he does. He scratched green into the snapback on Liam’s head, across the front of her shirt and in the vase on the background. The vase now doesn’t hold anything, but in the picture he drew little pink flowers, hoping she would like those.

“Beautiful,” she says.

“Do you like it?”

She nods, fingers stretching out.

“Can I tack it to your wall?”

She nods again and Zayn tacks it next to the television, so she can see it from her chair and from her bed.

“I’m going to miss you over Christmas break,” he tells her, taking his seat back on her bed. He should leave soon, as it is getting dark and Mrs. Smith will be in when the next program comes on. Sophia doesn’t listen to him, instead she is watching the television, where the camera has zoomed up to Liam’s face, lips working quickly behind a microphone, a smile etched on his face. It is not quite his football smile, but it still makes Zayn feel warm.

_“We worked really hard this season, very proud of what we have accomplished over these last few months. And I know we will be even prouder when we win that championship game.”_

_“Leave your last season with a bang.”_

_Liam laughs, eyes crunching around the corners as he nods. “Yeah. That’s the plan.”_

Mrs. Smith walks him to the door like she always does, insisting that she can drive him back to campus, and he politely refuses like he always does.

“Thank you for watching the games with her. I can’t stand football,” she says with a laugh, hugging Zayn before he can walk out the door. “We are probably going out of town in January, after the holidays. Sophia might need another surgery, one they can’t do here. I thought I would let you know so you don’t worry if you come by and see we are not here.”

He waits, seeing there is more to it than just that when she eyes him hesitantly.

“And because Liam is always quite a mess when she is in surgery. It would probably mean the world to him if you called.”

Zayn nods. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mrs. Smith. Thank you for telling me.”

On his walk back to campus, he remembers the morning they broke up, after Sophia had just gone to a doctor’s appointment, let alone into surgery. _“I just really need you.”_

Liam really needed him for comfort, and Zayn couldn’t be that for him, even though Liam is always his comfort. It makes him feel like shit, really.

The next day, he is up before Harry. It takes him three times calling him before he finally answers, voice thick and mumbled like he is trying to hold onto sleep. He can hear Niall in the background, trying to get Harry to stay in bed with him.

“Not helping, Niall,” Zayn says loudly into the phone until he hears Harry making a pained sound.

“I’m up,” Harry snaps. “I’m up. I’ll call you when I’m on my way over to yours.”

Zayn doesn’t bring many things home, just his summer clothes and a few things he isn’t sure why he brought to school in the first place. Somehow his belongings have doubled since he moved in, especially art supplies and Danforth school accessories, and a lot of things he should probably throw away.

There are no cars in the driveway when he gets home and Safaa doesn’t get home from school for another few hours, so Harry helps him bring his stuff in and promises to call him later. Zayn tries to start some of his winter homework, some of the readings he has for the classes in the Spring, but he mostly just lays there, book in his hands and mind somewhere else.

Doniya comes home before anyone else, and he can see her and Danielle in the driveway from his window as they bring in some of their suitcases. She isn’t supposed to be here, but the championship game isn’t for another few days.

“We won,” Doniya informs him, leaning against his door frame. She gives him a soft smile. “We kicked the other team’s ass, actually.”

“Knew we would,” Zayn says casually, flipping through the pages of his book to make it seem like he is reading it.

“I leave in two days, for the championship.”

“Tell him I said good luck.”

He can feel Doniya staring at him before she says, “There is a package for you on the kitchen table. I want to tell you and Liam both to stop being idiots, but at the same time I want you to know I’ll beat him up for you if you ever need me to.”

Zayn flops down his book, grinning. He knows she would, that is why he hasn’t really talked to her about it. Liam has been her friend a long time. “Thanks, Don.”

She doesn’t move like Zayn thinks she is going to, instead says, “Liam asked me to tell you that you are still invited to the game, if you changed your mind about not going. I think he really wants you there.”

He wants to ask her why, why the hell would Liam want him there? That doesn’t make sense. If he really wanted him there, he would call him. If he really cared, he would act like it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says simply.

Doniya gives him a sad look but drops it, and Zayn is grateful.

When she leaves, he listens for her in her room, and he gets up to find the package when he hears her in there. It is just a brown box, sitting on the kitchen table and he looks for a mailing address but there isn’t one.

Inside the package is another box, wrapped in red wrapping paper, the glossy kind and a tiny green bow at the top. Zayn has no idea who it is from, but his fingers shake as he opens it because he has an idea.

He recognizes the fabric, the gray Danforth shirt, the gray knitted sweater from their first date, the countless amount of other clothes he has collected from Liam over the months they were together. He pulls each piece out until he finds one he doesn’t recognize, a forest green and black jersey with a bold 23 on the front. There is a tiny note paper clipped to it, the words ‘ _These are yours. Merry Christmas –L’_ scribbled on it.

Zayn sits on the chair, staring at the box. He doesn’t understand why Liam sent them back to him. He doesn’t know what it means or why it makes him so happy to have them back even though he is frustrated because he is stubborn and Liam should have just kept them, so he doesn’t have to deal with how frustrating this all is.

He takes the box to his room, not taking the clothes out except for the jersey. It is one of his practice jerseys, white with forest green letters. It is silky to the touch and he wants to cry because it smells like him. The shirt he stole that last morning they saw each other no longer does, and it is like Liam _knows_ , like Liam is still trying to comfort him somehow.

It gives him the courage to text Liam, just a simple ‘congratulations on the semi-finals’ but it feels massive because they haven’t talked. He waits nervously, gripping his phone in one hand until it vibrates.

_thnk u so much zayn_

 

Doniya asks him two more times if he wants to come to the championship, and every time he says no and thinks maybe he should just  get over whatever is worrying him and go. He doesn’t, and he ends up on the couch with his parents, Safaa beside him, watching the game.

He wears the jersey and he is glad no one comments. Safaa has her own small sized Danforth jersey on as well. One that she told Zayn, absolutely beaming, that Liam got for her.

_“This is the last game of his college career for Liam Payne, number twenty three of the Danforth Ducks. There has been talking about him making an appearance in next year’s draft. What do you think Jim?”_

_“I believe it Ryan. That kid has an arm, is fast on his feet. They have been talking about him going pro since his sophomore year of high school, and he has done nothing but get better and better each year.”_

“Liam is famous,” Safaa says in wonder. “We know someone famous Zayn.”

Zayn runs his fingers through her hair fondly. “We sure do.”

It is one of those ‘sitting on the edge of your seat’ games because it is a close game, but also because the other team seems to have made it their mission to get Liam off the field. He gasps loudly, standing up when Liam gets hit hard, crumpling to the ground. For a beat he doesn’t move, and it sets Niall off, lunging at the guy who knocked him until Liam is getting up, an arm hugging around Niall’s waist to pull him off of the linebacker that is probably doubled Niall’s size.

The camera pans close to Niall’s face on the sidelines, reddened and though there is no sound, Zayn can read the amount of cuss words flying out of his mouth, hands in the air as he points to something off camera. The coach is yelling back, and in the background, Andy’s eyes are clenching closed as he laughs at them, an arm around Tom’s shoulders.

Liam gets hit two more times, and both times Zayn doesn’t mean to stand up, fingers covering his lips but he does. He hides his eyes behind his fingers, too nervous to look, counting the seconds in his head until Liam gets up -

“It’s okay beta. He is getting up, look,” his father says patiently, a grin quirking up on his lips but it’s not funny. He sits back down, fingers gripping onto his jersey. He takes it all back. He hates football.

They win by a field goal, and Zayn watches as the team goes running on the field, the crowd cheering, along with Safaa who chants along with the television. Zayn is glad he isn’t there, because there are so many people, but he wishes he were when he spots Liam, that football smile stretching across his lips.

The interviewers don’t flock to him like they normally do, but when they talk to Niall, he can see Liam in the background, that football smile on his face and phone clutched to his ear as Andy grabs his shoulders and shakes him in excitement. He tries to listen to whatever Niall is saying, half of his words bleeped out because he is quite passionate about those _cock faces_ on the other team, but his phone is vibrating in his pocket, pulling him away from the television.

It has been so long since Liam called him that he forgot about the picture he has as his contact, one of him taken on the beach during the summer. Zayn is mostly cropped out of it, just half of his face, eye squinting because of the sun, and Liam’s crunching together like when he smiles.

“We won!” Is what he gets when he answers the phone. “We fucking won!”

“I saw,” Zayn says because he is nervous. He slips away from the living room, ignoring the look of knowing on his mom’s face when he does. “I mean, congratulations.”

The background noise is loud, and Liam is yelling but he can still hear the softness in his voice through the excitement. “I’m sorry. I just – you were the only one I wanted to call.”

Zayn’s throat squeezes tightly around, “It’s okay.”

He hears someone talking to Liam, trying to get him off the phone. “Shut up. I’m on the phone with Zayn.”

It gets a bit quieter. “Sorry. Walking into the locker room now,” Liam tells him breathlessly like he can’t handle the excitement or he is running/ Zayn clutches onto the phone for dear life. He doesn’t want Liam to hang up even though he can’t handle the fact that Liam has called him. “I wish you were here.”

“I was watching,” Zayn tells him. “The whole game. They were trying hard to get you out of the game, weren’t they?” _And it terrified me -_

“I’m unstoppable babe,” Liam says, the laugh in his voice dying out like he realized what he said. “Um, where are you?”

“At home,” Zayn answers. “I watched it with Safaa and my parents.”

“I have to go right now, but can I call you after I am done here? Just some coach talk and a shower?”

“Yeah. Have fun,” Zayn assures him. “And congratulations again, Liam.”

Zayn doesn’t expect him to call back and he is okay with that, knowing Liam will want to celebrate with his team. And he should. He doesn’t say much to his parents before he goes into his room, falling onto his bed.

It is a mix of good and bad. It hurts, but he can’t stop the smile on his face either. _You were the only one I wanted to call._ It might not mean anything, because everyone else Liam could have called was already there at the game. But the _I wish you were here_ feels like it means something, even if Zayn knew that Liam had wanted him to come. He had wanted Liam to tell that himself, and he did.

Liam doesn’t end up calling back. He assumes he is with Harry, who had texted him about some huge party that was being thrown for the team by a local bar, after asking him if he was planning on staying in for the night.

He is just about to go to sleep when the sound of tires on pavement reach his window before the headlights do, and he knows the sound of that car – heavy and sleek, and too familiar even though it has been awhile since he has heard it.

The lights in the house are off when he runs through it, knocking into some things and cussing gently. He closes the door gently behind him, trying not to wake his parents just as Liam is stepping out of the car. He is no longer dressed in the football uniform, just gray joggers and a long sleeved shirt on even though it is winter and freezing out.

Liam looks hesitant and Zayn blinks, because there is no way Liam is here when he is supposed to be out of town, celebrating his championship win. But he is, and Zayn closes the space between them, Liam’s fingers reaching out to cup his face like Zayn moving was the sign he needed to tell him that it is okay to touch him.  

It is. It really fucking is, because Liam doesn’t hesitate in pulling him close until his mouth is on Zayn’s. He kisses Zayn like it is necessary, like every drag of their lips together needs to be savored. He kisses Zayn until Zayn is trembling, groaning against his lips. He feels warm, despite the freezing air around them and Liam pulls away with a gasp, lips quirking up.

“Are you doing anything right now?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be out of town?”

Liam grins, thumb reaching out to drag against Zayn’s bottom lip when he says, “I missed you too.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, eyes widening because Liam seems so calm, so genuine. Maybe he is drunk, Zayn thinks. That would be the only reason for this confusing behavior. Even though he doesn’t drink, and he just drove over an hour to get here. Which means he left the locker room and headed straight for Bradford.

It doesn’t make any sense, but he lets Liam tug him into the truck because he needs to understand. And he has been desperate for Liam for so long that not going with him doesn’t seem like an option.

“I’m sorry for just showing up. I just really needed to see you. I thought like, I thought I could do this,” Liam explains as he drives. “Do this whole ‘accept that we aren’t talking _thing_ ’ but I can’t. The whole time I was playing, I wanted to know what you looked like while you were watching. I wanted to know if you were watching, and when we won, the only person I wanted to celebrate it with was you.”

Zayn’s breath hitches. He is having a difficult time processing Liam’s words. He has thought about it non-stop, imagined Liam telling him it was all a mistake, but it doesn’t seem real. Liam seems so desperate for him to understand, words apologetic like he is expecting Zayn to not understand.

They pull into Liam’s driveway. His house is dark, and the cars are gone again because his parents are probably still out of town, having gone to see Liam’s game with Doniya and the girls.

Liam helps him out of the truck, and Zayn regrets not thinking about grabbing a jacket before he left. Which is when he realizes he is still wearing Liam’s jersey, and he flushes as Liam’s fingers run over the material curiously.

“Looks good on you,” he says softly before linking their fingers. They nearly run to the house because it is so cold, Zayn shivering behind him as he tries to remain close.

“Liam,” Zayn says, finally finding his voice as they walk through Liam’s house. They stop in the hallway to the bedrooms, Zayn tugging on Liam’s hand. “I missed you too.”

“Yeah?” He takes two steps so he is right in front of Zayn, reaching out to brush his fingers against Zayn’s jaw. He hates how small his voice is, and how he leans his head into Liam’s touch, nuzzling his head against Liam’s hand because he doesn’t know if it is okay to do more. He doesn’t know if it is a mistake to let his guard down so easily -

“Tell me when to stop,” Liam says softly, thumb grazing his cheek before he leans forward, breathing across Zayn’s lips. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Zayn just closes the space between them. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. He just wants Liam, Liam’s rough touch, Liam’s soft touch – anything he can get. He doesn’t care what happens next.

He clings onto Liam as Liam kisses him softly, tongue running against his lips, slowly pushing past them to lick at his teeth. Zayn sucks gently, earning a soft moan from Liam, making his thumbs press a little harder into his cheeks.

When Liam pulls back he is breathing heavy, cheeks flushed and eyes blown out. God, he has missed being able to witness that. “Can we –“

“Yeah,” Zayn says quickly, pressing Liam backwards towards his bedroom. Liam turns, opening the door and Zayn plasters himself to Liam’s back, fingers chasing after the shirt being pulled off. His lips move along the indent of muscles until Liam is turning back around with a needy sound in his throat.

“I meant it,” Liam says, hands gripping Zayn’s waist as he falls back onto the bed, dragging Zayn on top of him. “I really missed you.”

Zayn leans over him, lips moving against the stubble of hair against his jaw. “I meant it too.”

Liam nods, arching forward to kiss him again as his fingers dip under the waistband of his joggers, slipping them past his hips to feel at the skin there. He presses his fingers down, encouraging Zayn to grind his hips lower. Zayn does and Liam gasps around the tongue he has licking at the back of his teeth.

He is really hard, already, and he grinds his length against Liam so he knows. Liam’s grip tightens, a little more urgent as he tries to push the joggers down more. It is quick but Zayn is too desperate to take his time.

“Off,” Liam pants, head falling back against the pillow. Zayn is fast, quickly taking the clothes off the lower half of his body before he is rolling back on top of Liam. Liam’s cock presses against his thigh and he rolls his hips, working against the length of it slowly, watching Liam teeth sink into his lip as his own hips fall into the same movement.  

“Want to ride me?” Liam huffs out, reaching to rest his hands on Zayn’s waist, fingers resting in the indents of Zayn’s hips as he presses him down.

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes, moving his hips harder against Liam’s length. “Fuck, yeah, Liam.”

“Come on then, babe.”

“Yeah?” Zayn says, fingers gripping for the hem of the jersey to tug it off.

“Keep it on,” Liam insists, pulling his wrist away from the material. “And turn around for me.”

Zayn bites his tongue as he listens and repositions himself. Liam’s large hands cradle his waist, fingers rubbing at the indent of his spine. He grinds down, desperate to get some friction on his cock, to feel Liam’s pressing between his cheeks. Precome smears across Liam’s joggers, and he wants Liam to take them off, but Liam is pulling his hips back towards his chest instead.

“Can I?” Liam murmurs, sitting Zayn on his chest. He wishes he never turned around, so he can look down at Liam. He moans his response, pushing his hips back against the chin nudging at him, hugging his legs against Liam’s side where they bracket his chest.

He chuckles, pulling Zayn’s hips up easily without any strain in his arms, holding him there as he nips at the flesh of Zayn’s ass. Zayn can’t emphasize this enough. Working out really, really has its benefits.

“Liam,” he moans weakly, pressing his hips down. Liam’s thumbs press hard into his skin, spreading him. Liam is so close he can feel Liam’s breath skating across his skin and he shivers, knees digging into the mattress to keep himself steady.

Liam teases his tongue across Zayn’s flesh, rolling around where his thumb presses into his cheek. “Have you been with anyone else?”

“No,” Zayn says desperately, wiggling his hips so Liam will move his mouth closer to where he wants him.

“Why not?” Liam hums. He holds Zayn’s hips a little lower, tongue flicking out to roll against his hole. If he wants Zayn to answer that, he is going to have to stop lapping at Zayn’s hole, teeth digging into the flesh but Zayn doesn’t want him to –

“Want no one but you,” Zayn gasps out, eyes clenching shut as Liam moans against him. He feels so wet and Liam’s working his mouth against Zayn sloppily, noisily and with a skilled tongue that Zayn thrusts back on, begging for more.

Liam presses his tongue past the ring of muscle, slowly fucking into Zayn as he grinds down. He reaches a hand back, ignoring the awkward angle of his back, because Liam’s hands are busy gripping his waist but he needs more.

Liam moans when he gets the hint, pulling back to let Zayn work a finger inside of himself. His tongue flicks out around the digit, fingers digging harshly into Zayn’s skin. Liam thrusts his hips up like he is desperate to get off, and Zayn watches as his cock twitches under the confines of his joggers.

“What do you want?” Zayn pants. “Me to touch myself or you?”

He fucks down on his finger, quickly pressing in a second one before he comes too soon. His cock is heavy, bouncing between his legs as he works himself on his fingers. Liam’s arms are shaking so Zayn presses more of his weight onto his knees, trying to look at Liam from over his shoulder as he scissors his fingers.

“Both,” Liam moans out a laugh, smoothing his hands across the back of Zayn’s thighs, across his ass and up his back like he can’t stop touching.

Zayn sits on Liam’s chest, pulling his fingers away from himself so he can work Liam’s joggers off. His cock springs free and he brushes his lips against it lightly before Liam is tugging his hips back roughly.

He works his hand over Liam’s length as Liam fucks his tongue back into him, taking over where Zayn left off. He keeps himself resting forward, legs feeling too weak to do much else, but he holds himself up on one of his elbows, pressed close to Liam’s waist.

“A third?” Liam moans as Zayn rolls his palm over the head. He doesn’t wait for a response before he stretches Zayn with a third, slowly working it in until the resistance is gone and he can fuck Zayn properly with his fingers.

This is what Zayn needed, the mix of gentle and rough. Just, Liam -

“Do you think you could fit three and my tongue?” Liam asks, and Zayn grinds his hips down, cock rubbing against Liam’s chest because fuck, he probably couldn’t but the idea in itself could make him come –

“Liam, I need,” he says, pulling his hand away from Liam and moving his hips away when Liam pulls his fingers away.

Liam lets him move, hands falling to the side of the bed as Zayn scrambles forward. “Need you. Fuck -”

“Yeah,” Liam urges, spreading his legs, a jerky movement that seems more unconscious than on purpose. He holds Zayn’s hips as Zayn takes his length into his hand and lines it up with his whole, wet and raw feeling from being stretched -

Zayn sinks down slowly, gently working himself onto Liam’s cock. Liam just holds his hips, moaning softly as Zayn bottoms out. There is something infinitely hot about being faced away as he rocks his hips, Liam getting to see the word _Payne_ stretched across his back.

“You look like mine,” Liam breathes, like he is thinking the same thing. Zayn bites back the _I am_ as he works himself down again, building up a slow rhythm that Liam guides his hips into. Even on top, Liam takes control, holding Zayn’s hips when he jerks them down suddenly, pulling him down to grind his cock against that bundle of nerves –

Zayn’s back arches, eyes clenching shut as he looks up to the ceiling and just moans. It is so much, bursts of pleasure erupting in his abdomen and he can’t stop the litany of moans he lets out, the way his legs fucking tremble around Liam. Liam just keeps on that spot, until Zayn lets out a sob, fingers digging into Liam’s thighs.

Liam jerks his hips, loosening his grip on Zayn to let him move again. He rocks down on Liam only a few times before Liam’s grabbing his hips again, grinding up against him -

“Fuck Zayn. Need to kiss you –“ Liam moans, letting his hands fall from Zayn’s hips so he can pull off and turn around. Liam is moving to lean forward as Zayn grips him to guide his cock back against his hole, fingers strong against Zayn’s jaw as he pulls their lips together. Even though he sits taller than Liam, face tilting down as he holds onto Liam’s jaw, he feels small against in those strong arms, bulging and flexing around him.

Zayn’s cock rubs against the muscles of Liam’s stomach as he grinds down, moaning against Liam’s tongue as it works against his teeth. No matter how close they are, it is not close enough, even when Liam slides his arms lower down his back and pulls him back against the bed with him, holding him chest to chest as his hips snap against Zayn’s, it is not close enough.

“Liam, close,” he moans, resting his head against Liam’s shoulders, sinking his nose in the scent of cologne mixed with sweat on Liam’s skin. He ignores the tightness in his chest, instead focusing on the build of pleasure in his abdomen, the way Liam’s strokes pick up the pace.

“Let me hear you, babe,” Liam groans, arms tightening around Zayn, trapping Zayn’s arms between their chests as he tries to run his hands up Liam’s. He arches his head to the side, letting Zayn’s lips work there, just pressed against his skin as he moans shamelessly, clenching around Liam to make him lose some of his control.

He bites hard on the soft skin under Liam’s jaw when he comes, sucking the skin as he moans so Liam will have to see it in the morning. Liam keeps thrusting into him as Zayn marks up his throat, groaning and grunting out harsh breaths, hips staggering as his arms push the jersey into Zayn’s armpits. Zayn rocks back against him, lips tracing out _come on_ against Liam’s skin.

He hisses from the sensitivity, pushing up on his hands, past Liam’s hold to look at Liam’s face when he comes, features contorting together as his head tilts back into the pillows. Zayn never forgot how beautiful Liam looks like this, but he doesn’t want to have to be without it again because in person makes his memories feel weak in comparison.

“Zayn,” Liam whimpers, lips pressing against his temple when Zayn falls back against him after he slides out slowly. Zayn doesn’t want to move, wants to keep their chests pressed together, soak in the calm that is filling in the room with each of the heavy breaths they let out and Liam’s arms wrap back around him like he wants that too.

It hits him quickly, without any warning. Just a heavy feeling in his chest, pain bracketing his sternum until it breaks through and he cries, biting his tongue harshly so Liam won’t feel it trembling through him. He keeps his face turned from Liam, hoping Liam will take the tears as sweat because both of them are covered in it –

“Zayn,” Liam murmurs, fingers working underneath the jersey. Zayn can hear the fast pace of his heart where he rests his head. “These last few weeks have sucked without you in them.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want Liam to hear the tears in his voice so he just moves his fingers to Liam’s shoulders, arms wrapped around the outside of Liam’s frame, so he knows he is listening.

“I would have called, or at least texted, but I thought that would be selfish of me if you needed your space,” he goes on. “But I just miss you so much.”

Zayn pulls up, pressing his lips to Liam. He doesn’t care if he can feel how wet his cheeks are, or taste the tears on his lips. Liam cups his face, thumbs wiping away the tears, pulling Zayn back with a concerned look.

“Why-” Liam starts, but Zayn shakes his head, cutting him off.

“I missed you too,” Zayn tells him simply. He can’t really tell Liam why he is crying, because he can’t explain why there is such an overwhelmed feeling building in him.

“I take that as a yes to start texting you more?” Liam asks, a grin quirking on his lips.

“You’ll be free more often now that you don’t have football?” Zayn asks hopefully.

The change on Liam’s face is quick. It looks regretful, mouth falling open like he doesn’t know how to say whatever it is that is making his face look like that and Zayn waits patiently, heart rate picking up.

“Well, I have weight training still. To keep my weight up in case I get drafted,” he starts. “And um, an internship that starts the second week of school in case I _don’t_ get drafted, so at least I have built some experience for a job.”

Zayn looks at him for a long moment, hoping his face is expressionless but it is hard to tell because it feels heavy from crying. “So no?”

He rests his head back on Liam’s chest, too tired to deal with that.

“I’m sorry,” he says, lips moving against his hairline. He does sound sorry, voice regretful and apologetic.

Zayn is also too tired to keep telling Liam to stop apologizing so he doesn’t, just listens to Liam’s heart beat until it falls back into a regular pace.

“Well, are you busy during break?”

He can hear the grin in Liam’s voice when he says, “I was hoping you would let me spend it with you.”

 

Zayn doesn’t remember falling asleep when he is being woken up by lips skating across the ink on the back of his neck. He breathes in the smell of Liam on the pillow, soft fingers working under the jersey he still wears.

“Morning,” Liam murmurs, moving his lips across Zayn’s jaw. He must have rolled off Liam while they were sleeping because he lays flat on his stomach, Liam leaning over him.

“Morning,” Zayn says, voice thick with sleep. He tries to roll over so Liam can kiss him properly, but Liam makes a noise of protest, keeping him flat on his stomach.

“I hope you realize,” Liam says with a grin, scraping his teeth against the lobe of Zayn’s ear. “You’re not leaving this bed until spring semester starts.”

Zayn groans. He doesn’t have a problem with that.

It is not really a stretch. Zayn only leaves Liam’s bed to follow him into the kitchen, pressing him against the counter, or into the shower, Liam pressing him against the wall. He doesn’t leave when Liam’s parents knock on his bedroom door, he just sinks an embarrassed smile under the sheets when they say “and hello Zayn” through the door.

He has to leave eventually though, when Harry has Niall call Liam because he has been avoiding Harry’s calls because he knew Harry was going to make him leave.

“Come back after?” Liam asks, truck idling outside of Harry’s house.

“You’re going to break me,” Zayn jokes as Liam’s lips work against his knuckles. He won’t stop doing that, even when they are just lying together. He kisses Zayn all over, soft touches and soft lips. He knows he shouldn’t allow it, because once winter break is over they will barely see each other, and everything will go back to the way it was. It can’t change, he heard it in Liam’s voice. They broke up because neither one of them had time for each other. That is not going to be different next semester.

Maybe they will be on better terms, at least, but they have to be strictly friends and even that seems like it is probably going to be impossible.

“If I do, I’ll kiss it better,” Liam promises, eyes crinkling as he laughs at himself. Zayn snorts, leaning over the divider to kiss him before he climbs out of the car.

Harry waits on the porch, hand on his hip and a grin on his face as he waves off to Liam like they are his parents who have separated and Liam is dropping him off for a visit. “Bye Liam. Thank you!”

“So,” Harry drags out, eyebrows wiggling when he turns to Zayn. “Details? Are you Mr. Zayn Payne again?” He scrunches his nose, shaking his head in disgust. “I don’t like that. Liam is going to have to take your last name.”

“No,” Zayn groans, walking past Harry to head to his room like it is his own house. “No details. Not together. We’re just friends.” He hears Harry mutter, “ _fuck that_ ” before Zayn gets out the rest. ”And if Liam wanted me to have his last name, you don’t get a say in it.”

Harry stares at him, the laughter gone from his face. “But you two are just friends?”

“Er…right,” Zayn says, flopping down on Harry’s bed. The place is a mess, all of his things unpacked but not actually placed anywhere other than the floor and every surface in the room.

“Bullshit,” Harry says firmly. “Did you guys have sex?”

Zayn nods. Hopefully Harry doesn’t ask him how many times –

“Did he apologize for being a cock head?”

Zayn glares at him defensively. “Yeah, he did actually.”

“And your conclusion is that you two are just going to be friends?” Harry says in disbelief. “Did you forget you were in love with him or has that changed and you didn’t tell me?”

He stands up. “You are the one being a cock head,” Zayn snaps, ignoring how stupid that sounds leaving his lips. “I’m really fucking happy right now, and if I want to pretend like I don’t have to deal with that shit than let me. I’ll deal with it when it comes.” Harry’s face softens, and he steps forward, an arm reaching to wrap around Zayn’s shoulders like he sees the way he is about to cry on his face.

It is not because he is sad, just frustrated. Because Harry is right, but he doesn’t care. He wants as much of Liam as he can get until Liam has to pull away again. But he knows in a month’s time he is going to be cussing at his current self.

They don’t talk about it again, but when he goes back to Liam’s he can’t get Harry’s words out of his head and Liam seems to sense something is wrong. He doesn’t push him to talk about it, doesn’t touch him until Zayn tugs his arm over his torso, fitting his back to Liam’s chest. He is angry with Harry, even though he knows it is not his fault.

“I was just joking,” Liam says softly, lips against his shoulder. “You’re allowed to leave when you want.”

Zayn slips their fingers together, snuggling closer to Liam. “I don’t want to.”

And that’s the problem, because he isn’t going to want to when school starts up again either.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um hopefully you dont hate me for this? Please tell me what you think? Part 3 will be out next week sometime. It is probably not going to be as long as the first two, but it will be the last part.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I hope it is worth it :))))) 
> 
> Also, since I've had a few questions, the song reoccuring through the fic is the same song the title is taken from. Real Love by Mary J. Blige :)

**January**

They are all squeezed in the basement in Liam’s house, the New Year’s Eve Party at Times Square plays on the television, but it goes ignored. Liam’s head rests in his lap, feet kicked over the other arm of the couch, eyes squeezing shut as he laughs along with Andy and Niall.

“No, no,” Liam chokes out, pointing at Niall. “Don’t you dare leave out the best part, Nialler.”

Niall shoots him a look like he is crazy, red creeping across his skin and disappearing under his hairline. “The best part? Fuck you, Payno. My dick was sore for days, what the fuck do you mean the best part –

The boys laugh, losing the rest of the story and Zayn snorts along, exchanging confused glances with Harry.

Doniya scrubs her fingers through Andy’s long mane of hair. “Your football camp stories are always disgusting. Enough,” she scolds fondly, nose crinkling.

“Gross?” Zayn repeats, rubbing a thumb along Liam’s hairline, fingers scratching out against the side of his face when Liam turns his head to look up at him.

Liam shakes his head adamantly, his smile giving him away though. “Not me.”

“Absolute shit, Payne,” Niall accuses, his laughter squeezing his features to the point where it almost looks painful. “Junior year-“

Liam groans, eyes clenching shut.

It is a good way to end the year, bringing in the next, surrounded by all of them, filling up Liam’s basement with laughter and yelling. Liam’s laughter is infectious, making Zayn’s stomach ache because he can’t stop laughing even though he isn’t really sure of why half the time.

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed being around Niall, and even Andy. And he is glad he managed to convince them to stay in rather than go to a party out of town Harry had mentioned..

_Ten -_

They pay attention now, eyes finding the television for a breath before turning to theirs -

Zayn drags his fingers along the scruff against Liam’s jaw, grinning down at him. Liam reaches up, fingers skating along the back of his neck to pull him closer. _Nine, eight, seven -_

“To the next year,” Liam murmurs, tilting his head back into Zayn’s lap, tongue flicking out to roll along the bottom lip. _Six, five, four -_

“I hope so,” Zayn breathes quietly. Liam’s brow furrow in confusion. _Three, two, one -_

Zayn closes the thin amount of space between them, nudging Liam’s lips with his own as Liam adds pressure to the hold on the back of his neck. It is a bit awkward from the angle but their lips always fit perfectly, glide together like they were _meant_ to work together and Zayn hopes he is able to do this as much as he wants over the next year.

 

Zayn tightens the winter coat around himself, snuggling his face into the wooly scarf he stole from Liam to keep the wind from biting at his cheeks. He hates the cold, doesn’t understand how anyone could really enjoy it. The only thing he likes about winter is seeing Liam in his marshmallow puff coat, scarf and ear muffs, rolling around in the snow with his little sister as they attempt to make a snow man with the too soft of snow.

But he could easily watch them from inside of the house. He just can’t say no to Liam when he is pouting and begging he will make it up to Zayn later if he would just come outside with them. (And well, teamed up with Safaa’s matching puppy eyes, the two of them together are practically impossible to say no to.)

He just sees the snow flying towards him just in time to duck, hitting him in the shoulder instead of the only exposed skin on his face. Safaa laughs wildly, ducking behind Liam as she reaches to the ground to pack together another.

“You little shit,” Zayn cusses under his breath, quickly moving from the porch to stick his own hands in the snow. His thin gloves do little to keep the cold away, and his hands are cramped and sore by the time Safaa’s gotten him nearly covered in snow.

“Victory is mine!” She cheers as Zayn falls to the ground trying to dodge out of the way of the last one she throws at him.

“You just got beat by a little girl,” Liam says, falling to his knees beside Zayn. He is prepared for the cold, wearing snow pants while Zayn has on just three pairs of sweatpants that also do little from keeping the cold from biting at his legs.

“Whose team are you on?” Zayn snaps, trying to frown but his face feels frozen solid and his lips tremble instead.

Liam grins, leaning down to warm Zayn’s lips with his own. “Always yours, baby.”

“No cheating,” Safaa yells, snow flying towards the back of Liam’s head before she takes off running. Liam gets up easily, tugging Zayn with him before he is off chasing her in the small yard.

“Beta,” Yaser says, hiding behind the screen from the window of Zayn’s bedroom. Like Zayn, he hates the cold. “When Safaa calms down enough to talk to her, the three of you come inside. Your mother made pie and won’t let me have any until you two are warmed up first.”

He makes a noise of irritation that Zayn laughs at. Liam and Safaa have made their way to the back of the house, Liam with Safaa over his shoulder as he runs around with her effortlessly, her legs kicking out and wail laughing for Liam to put her down. Zayn watches them for a moment, not wanting to ruin it before he relays his father’s message.

They rush into the house, moving fast over the carpet so they can strip off their wet clothes in Zayn’s room without making a mess and dripping all over his mother’s clean floors. There is an empty laundry basket she put by the door that they drop the clothes into. He watches Liam struggle to get his shirt off, the wet material sticking to his skin, muscles flexing underneath and _shit_ –

Zayn presses Liam against the back of his door before he can reach for the dry clothes folded on the bed. They are going to have to wait.

“What?” Liam chuckles, arms wrapping around Zayn’s lower back like it’s a habit.

“Nothin’,” Zayn murmurs. _Just seeing you with my sister makes me love you even more_. “Just wanted to kiss you.”

Liam ducks his head down, Zayn’s lips parting before they touch. He grins, pushing harder against Liam until his head hits the back of the door again, fingers soothing across the skin at the bottom of his spine.

Liam’s teeth chatter, and both of their skin is cold to the touch, even where they are pressed together. Zayn’s skin is reddened and his legs burn as they adjust to the warmth of the house. Liam hums, leaning Zayn back to press his lips to the column of his throat. “I really want to say that maybe we can warm each other up because we are both freezing, but your mom has pie.”

Zayn shoves him back against the door, pretending to be offended as he grabs for his clothes. He is not really offended, because the house is filled with the scent of apple pie and if they don’t hurry up his father will eat all of it.

“Race you? Whoever gets dressed faster gets two pieces of pie,” he says, pulling his arms through his shirt as he says it. Liam’s eyes widen and he groans, “Not fair,” before he is grabbing for his clothes too. He grabs Zayn’s face, kissing him hard, tongue insistent in his mouth and Zayn’s arms fall away from the buttons of his shirt, gasping against Liam’s kiss as Liam fumbles on his pants –

Liam grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head as he runs out of the room with victory on his face. Zayn goes to run after him but realizes he hasn’t actually put his pants on yet. Liam is a cheater, because he put on the jeans instead of the sweatpants that were put out for him, and completely forwent the briefs that now lay on the floor.

Liam leans against the counter when Zayn joins them, a grin around his fork that he doesn’t return. Safaa sits happily at the table with Yaser, wiggling around in her seat as she scoops big bites of pie into her mouth.

“You don’t play fair,” he mumbles, grabbing the plate waiting on the counter next to Liam for him. The bottom is warm, and it feels good against his hands.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Liam says, sliding the second piece of pie on his plate onto Zayn’s. “It’s unbecoming.”

“You guys are disgusting,” Safaa groans as Liam leans forward like he is going to kiss Zayn’s forehead. He pauses, biting around a grin. “Worse than these two.” She points a fork accusingly at their parents.

“When you find someone special Safaa, you will find yourself to be very gross too,” Tricia says in amusement, patting her cheek. Safaa just frowns at that and both Zayn and Liam tense.

“Not until you are forty three,” Zayn says quickly, pointing a finger at her. “Absolutely not.”

“Forty six is actually the proper age for little Safaas to start dating, I heard. It was on the news or something,” Liam adds conversationally like this is something he has actual read about.

His mother places a hand over her lips to hide her laugh as Safaa opens her mouth angrily. “But Waliyah isn’t forty six and she is dating!”

“What?” Zayn and Yaser say at the same time, sending accusing looks to Safaa and Tricia. His mother gives Yaser a stern look.

“I let her invite a boy over. They hung out in the living room. They are not dating,” she clarifies.

“Good,” Liam says seriously, eyeing Safaa. “Because that would be gross.”

They stay up late, Safaa hyped up on hot chocolate and marshmallows, refusing to go to sleep when even Zayn’s eyes start to grow heavy, head resting on Liam’s shoulder. Waliyha sleeps on the couch, feet kicked across Safaa’s lap.

She whispers excitedly over the movie and Zayn isn’t sure what they are watching. He would ask Liam, but Liam’s head has been turned, lips stitched to the side of Zayn’s head nearly the whole movie. He hums against Zayn’s skin, fingers drawing circles along the hair on the back of his head.

Zayn wakes up to strong arms sliding underneath him, lifting him up and snuggling him close against a hard chest. Zayn grins, sliding his arms around the wide of shoulders. He presses his grin against the thick of Liam’s neck, feeling his laugh vibrate under the skin there.

“You fell asleep,” Liam whispers, carrying him into his bedroom. “The girls are in their rooms.”

Zayn tightens his arms when Liam tries to put him down on the bed. “Can you stay? Actually you don’t have a choice. I’m not letting go.”

Liam snorts, resting him against the bed, lips on his forehead. “Well can you let me go so I can take these jeans off at least?”

Zayn remembers Liam leaving the briefs on the floor and he beams in the dark, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

Sleep scratches at the back of his eyelids and he tries to fight it off as he listens to Liam change out of the jeans. He scooches Zayn over, closer to the wall, before turning them to the side and tugging him close to his chest.

Liam is still wearing his shirt, but the cotton is soft against Zayn’s cheek. “Can I ask you something, baby?”

Zayn hums, cupping Liam’s side. Liam’s arm tightens around his shoulders, fingers reaching out to lazily scratch through his hair. “Course.”

He can hear how Liam’s heart thuds a little faster against his chest and Zayn blinks his eyes, trying to force away the need for sleep so he can pay attention to whatever it is Liam is going to say.

“What’s been bothering you?” Liam whispers, shifting closer. “Sometimes you look distant, like you just disappear.”

He hides his face against Liam’s chest for a long moment, listening to the pace of his heart, trying to keep his own from catching up with Liam’s. He hadn’t realized it had been noticeable when he slips away into his thoughts about what is going to happen once winter break is over.

“If I tell you, will you promise that we can still keep doing like, whatever this is for the rest of winter break?” Zayn finally whispers.

He stiffens noticeably, shoulder blades going tense when Zayn rubs his fingers up Liam’s spine to relax him. He does, tangling their legs before he says, “Course babes.”

Zayn sighs. There is no harm in just telling him. He has always been bad with communication – like he knows that. He just  - _it’s hard_. “Sometimes I remember, like, um – when winter break is over, this is going to go back to how it was before. Or like, just being friends?” He pauses to catch his breath, and sort of to wait to see if Liam denies this. He doesn’t. “And I rather be your friend than not, I just don’t know how well I will do at it.”

Liam’s arm squeezes around him, his chin snuggling against the top of his head. “I’m sorry, Zayn.”

Even though the words spoken are quiet, he can hear how sad Liam sounds. Zayn realizes he doesn’t really need Liam to say anything else, he just needed Liam to hear it. He shrugs, pressing his lips against Liam’s chest. “It’s okay, babe.”

Sleep no longer wants anything to do with him, and it is hours before the pace of Liam’s heart slows, and his soft snores fill the room.

 

The last day of winter break, Liam picks Zayn up from his house, packing the back seat of his truck with a few boxes that Zayn is taking with him back to school, including the box of Liam’s clothes that neither one of them comment on when Liam puts it on the seat.

“Do you mind if we stop by and see Soph?” Liam asks as they turn off the highway into Danforth.

“Of course not.”

Liam sends him a grin, fingers reaching out to turn off the _I thought you were the question to the answer in my mind_ playing from the speakers. He has been playing that one song a lot, not that Zayn minds. He has always loved how much emotion Mary is able to put into her voice.

“I saw what you drew for her you know, when I went to visit her before the championship game,” he explains. “I went to take it down so I could look at it better and she flipped. Thought I was going to ruin it.”

Zayn smiles softly, keeping his eyes on his hands. “Do you mind that I went to go see her?”

“I don’t care,” Liam chuckles. “She’s your friend too. And I mean, I kind of like it.”

“Yeah?”

Liam nods, not looking at him but he takes a hand off the wheel, waving it at his chest as if that explains it. It does. It is the same way Zayn feels when he sees Liam with Safaa. _Seeing how good you were with her kind of made me get this stupid warm feeling in my chest -_

But it shouldn’t be the same, because Liam is not in love with him the way he is in love with Liam. It’s different. Maybe Liam just likes the fact that there are kind people in the world.

When they had gone out to eat the night before, to celebrate Zayn’s birthday, it’s all he could think about. They were at a small restaurant, that played soft music that didn’t drown out the nagging thoughts Zayn had about how much he loved him, and how much he wanted to _tell_ Liam that. But he couldn’t, knowing Liam didn’t feel the same way.

And he tried to convince himself that maybe he was wrong and Liam did feel the same way, but it doesn’t make sense. If he did, Liam would dread going back to school just as much as him -

“Enjoy your break?” Mrs. Smith says when the two of them walk in behind her. She doesn’t say anything about Zayn and Liam arriving together, and he is glad. When they both nod, she turns to Liam and says, “Liam, do you mind driving your truck up behind us when we take Sophia in? We are staying a few more nights than we had originally planned.”

“I don’t mind. But I can stay with you guys if you w-“

Mrs. Smith waves him off. “That isn’t necessary, dear.”

“Another surgery?” Zayn asks softly as they leave Mrs. Smith and head towards Sophia’s room. He is worried, because she had just been going in for check-ups, and he hadn’t read too much into Mrs. Smith comment about Liam getting upset during surgery. He had been too focused on the fact that Mrs. Smith thought he would be a comfort for Liam than the fact that Sophia _could_ be going in for surgery.

“Yeah. They found she has a hematoma,” Liam informs him. “I want to stay until she is cleared to go home though, because she had one a few years ago, and the surgery hadn’t gone so well.”

He doesn’t offer up an explanation before he is knocking on Sophia’s door and pushing it open.

“Hey dude. How’ve you been?”

She doesn’t smile, but she shrugs. Zayn turns to Liam, watching the way Liam’s face quickly falls before he is replacing his frown with a smile again.  

“Brought Zayn with me. Like you asked.”

No response.

“Mom called me yesterday. Said you’re not feeling good. Want to tell me what’s wrong?” He kneels before her, fingers sliding against the back of her hands. His voice is softer now, head cocked to the side and those thick brows pushing together.

“Headache,” she tells him, frowning. “Really tired.”

Liam reaches up, fingers grazing over her cheek. “We can come back later if you’re too tired?” She nods. He hesitates before saying, “I’m going up to the hospital with you. Is that okay?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

He kisses her forehead, frowning once he turns around and heads out, letting Zayn wave goodbye but she isn’t looking at him. Liam’s shoulders are tense as he follows him out, fingers flexing out like he is trying to hide the fact that they are shaking.

“Oh Liam, she will be fine. It’s nothing serious, or they would have pushed up the surgery,” Mrs. Smith says, intercepting him on his way to the door. She looks at Zayn, as if she is thinking about what she had told him earlier too, about how Liam gets when Sophia goes in for surgery.

“I know, Mrs. Smith. Have a good night, yeah?” It’s not rude, he doesn’t think Liam could ever manage to be rude, but it offers no room for further talk.

“Have a good night, Mrs. Smith,” Zayn says quickly.

“Take care of him,” she whispers, patting his shoulder softly before he gives her a nod and runs out behind Liam.

He turns to Liam as Liam opens the truck door for him, and Liam just sighs, forehead pressing against Zayn’s and fingers tangling in his shirt. After a few deep breaths, he pulls away to help Zayn into the truck.

“I don’t know if you wanted to be in your dorm tonight. But would you mind staying with me tonight?” Liam asks as they pull out of the driveway, voice quiet.

“You know I don’t mind,” Zayn whispers. It could be his last night with Liam, anyway. Liam had only promised him winter break, didn’t deny the fact that they would be only friends afterwards.

Fuck, why can’t he just stop thinking about it for a second -

The apartment is dark and cold when they get inside, because no one had been there for the past month to turn on the heat. Niall is coming up with Harry the next day, because Danforth starts a day after Everton does.

“You can take whatever clothes you want,” Liam tells him casually when they get to his room. They left all of Zayn’s things in Liam’s truck so they can just bring it over to Zayn’s before class in the morning. “The hoodies are in the boxes at the foot of the closet, if you want one of those.”

 _Hell yes_ , Zayn thinks. He grabs the first one he sees, a light gray one with green letters spelling out _Universal Studios_ across the front. Liam groans, a smile tugging on his lips when he reaches out and grabs the collar of the hoodie.

“You would take my favorite one,” he says fondly. “Looks good on you.”

“It’s just a gray sweater.” Zayn flushes, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. He hopes Liam doesn’t ask him to take it off, unless he wants to take it off for him and let him keep it afterwards. It’s really soft, and warm and smells good -

“Yeah, but it’s mine. You always look good in my clothes,” Liam says, voice low, a smirk on his face as he tugs the collar again to bring him closer.

“I guess I’m going to have to donate all my clothes and go shopping through yours,” Zayn says seriously, frowning like this is going to be a burden.

“I don’t charge tax. Not for you, at least,” Liam laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners before Zayn kisses him to shut him up.

 

Liam wakes him up early the night day, like four hours before class is supposed to start and he hates it because Liam kisses him in a way that makes him want to stop, makes him want to curl up in his own dorm alone because it feels like a goodbye. He is usually always gentle, but even gentler now, and when he drags Zayn into the shower, he huffs out a breath that sounds too choked for Zayn’s liking, but he can’t see Liam’s face because he is behind him, working shampoo through Zayn’s hair.

Zayn tries to focus on the way his lips feel, scrapping across the wet skin of his shoulder, and the scratch of his fingers through his scalp. The way the warm water feels slipping between their torsos when Liam pulls them under the shower head, because he wants to drown out the anxious feeling buzzing through him.

They go to breakfast at a small diner that reminds him of one back home. Liam makes small talk, looking tired because neither one of them slept much the night before. And Liam even less, he assumes, since he was the one that woke Zayn.

Liam kisses him for a long time, pressing Zayn back against the inside of his dorm room’s door before he finally leaves because Zayn is going to be late for class, and Liam is going to be late to a meeting he has with the football coach.

He considers grabbing Liam and telling him he loves him, to see if that would make anything different. But if it doesn’t, than it is only going to make this all hurt a lot worse than it already does.

He gets out of every class early since it is the first day and they don’t do much besides go over the syllabus. So he ends up in the art studio, though he doesn’t go back to work until tomorrow, because Liam was doing something with his coach that he didn’t go into detail about because it was too much for texting.

Zayn is being dramatic when he lets that get to him because he knew this was coming, and it’s not even like last time, but he hates it more than he thought he would just because he is afraid of Liam not being there again.

And he is afraid that even if Liam is there it will still not be enough. These thoughts are really starting to frustrate him -

“Malik! My favorite student. What are you doing here?” Higgins says when he comes out of his office to find Zayn sprawled out on the floor, a large poster board underneath him.

“Drawing,” he says simply.

Higgins snorts, grinning. “Should have figured. How was your break, kiddo?”

Zayn shrugs. “I figured out what I wanted to do for my piece,” he tells him. “I just can’t figure out what medium to use.”

Higgins sits beside him on the floor, propping his elbows on his knees like he isn’t wearing a full suit right now. He looks like a grown five year old with the smile on his lips and it makes him chuckle. “Well, you can go with what you’re comfortable with, or try something you’re just learning. I’m here to help. You just can’t tell anyone.”

Zayn grins. He knows Higgins wouldn’t help him cheat. He likes the idea of painting what he has in mind. He just isn’t as good with a paintbrush as he is with a pencil. He could ask Louis, but Louis is annoying and also wouldn’t want to help him, since he thinks there is a prize awarded after the art show. Higgins has only hinted at there being one once, but dropped the subject when Zayn pressed him for more.

When he leaves the art studio it is dark, but only because it is winter and the sun still sets too early. He gives his suitemates a small wave where they sit in the living room, wanting to ignore all of them until they intercept him on his way to his room and tell him they let Liam in.

“Liam?” Zayn says softly, pushing open his bedroom door. Liam lies on his back, hands propped behind his head, wearing the blocky red and black plaid shirt Zayn had tried hiding from him, just in case he really did want it back.

“I’m not taking it,” Liam says distractedly, not looking at him. Zayn kicks off his shoes, climbing on top of Liam. He isn’t sure if it’s okay, if their new friendship is just that, but he can’t help himself. They haven’t really talked about it, established boundaries or anything. Zayn isn’t too sure he wants to go with the flow for long, but he will for now.

Liam moves his hands from under his head, planting them on Zayn’s hips to steady him instead. “I don’t get why you are so attached to this one and none of the others.”

Zayn shrugs. He doesn’t get it either, really, other than it being the first shirt Liam ever let him borrow, the first night they kissed.

And he is quite attached to the others, it is just different.

“It smells like you,” Liam says softly, grinning more to himself than Zayn. “That’s why I wanted it back. I figured it was the only piece of clothing you owned that could fit me and smell like you at the same time. Sounds stupid, and don’t you dare say it’s cute. We have been over that. I’m not cute.”  

Zayn snorts, sliding his hands up Liam’s chest, grazing over the material he has buttoned up to his neck. Maybe he should show Liam where his heart is so he can just tug it out and make it quick instead of slowly squeezing at it every time he says things like that. “Why did you want to smell like me? That’s a bit weird, babe.”

“Fuck you,” Liam says kindly, squeezing his arms around Zayn. “Because I missed you, you asshole. But nevermind, I take it back. Don’t miss you anymore.”

He wiggles like he is trying to escape from underneath Zayn, but Zayn knows he could easily fling Zayn off of him if he really meant to leave.

“You can take it back, if I can have it when it smells like you again.”

“You have yourself a deal, Malik.”

 

Zayn doesn’t see Liam for two weeks after he leaves the next morning, once they settle into their school and work schedules. Liam’s internship is on the weekends, the only time Zayn really has free, and for some reason weight training turns into more than just working in the weight room, but his coach dragging him out to the now unused football field with Niall and Andy. Zayn thinks Coach Jarvis is more excited about Liam potentially being drafted than Liam is. But he is just going to push Liam too far, exert him too much, and Liam is too fucking polite to tell him _no_.

Zayn can’t move his work shifts to any other time, because he has class, so when one of them has free time, the other doesn’t basically.

But they text a lot, and Liam requests an extra day off from all of his responsibilities than he had originally planned to go with the Smiths, so he can spend that extra day with Zayn. He keeps Zayn up on the phone the night before her surgery, already at the hotel where they are staying while they are there. His eyes are heavy, but he tries his best to stay awake because even though they don’t talk about anything, he feels like Liam needs him there.

He just doesn’t get why.

He accidentally sleeps through his morning classes, dragging himself out of bed in enough time to make it to the one before his shift at the studio. Sophia has been in surgery since the morning, but Liam hasn’t texted him so he sends him a quick text to let him know he is thinking about him.

“Rough night?” Higgins asks when he shuffles into work, a few minutes late because there was a long line at the café, but coffee is necessary today. “I know how they like to party on Thursdays.”

Zayn grins. “No. I’m not a big fan of those. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“You want to talk about it?” Higgins asks. He stands up from his desk, reaching into one of the bins in the closet to pull out a roll of paper and a box of pencils. He wiggles them in Zayn’s direction, indicating what kind of _talk_ he means. “Go work in the studio. You can stock the supplies tomorrow.”

Zayn smiles, grabbing the supplies with a thank you. He tries the first part of the piece he has in mind with the pencil, and he will try paint before he works on the other three parts. He has ink smudged up the sides of his hands, he feels it itching against his chin from when he scratches at the scruff of beard starting to grow, and an ache in his back from leaning over the large cut piece of paper by the time a new idea hits and his press on the paper lightens as he scratches out the curve of a shoulder, trying to match the design his muscles make against his skin.

It rules paint out, which Zayn doesn’t mind because if there is actually a prize at the end (which he shouldn’t care about but come on) than he is going to use the one medium that he knows he is good with.

“Zayn.”

Zayn’s head snaps up and he blinks away the ghost of the outline from his vision. Niall is standing in front of him, cheeks red and twisting his snapback around his head. He looks small in the heavy olive colored jacket hanging on his shoulders, a bit of plaid lining the hood.

“Do you know how hard it was to find you? Harry said an art studio, but there is like twenty of them, dude.”

“It’s an art school,” Zayn explains, standing up straight. He wonders if he can roll the piece of paper up without Niall seeing. It is not a secret but like, it kind of is.

“Right,” Niall drags out, a sheepish look on his face. “Can you ask your boss if you can leave work early?”

Zayn frowns, rolling up the paper quickly. There aren’t any messages on his phone and he hadn’t missed any either. He had left the sound on so he wouldn’t.

“Is Liam okay?” He says instantly, watching Niall as he heads off towards Higgins office. “He hasn’t texted me back all day.”

“Yeah he’s fine.” But Niall is sliding his fingers into his pants pocket, an expression on his face that tells Zayn something is definitely not okay.

Higgins lets him go without a problem, telling him he can make up his shift later. Which he won’t, but he thinks Higgins says that just because he has to. Zayn knows he looks alarmed, which is why Higgins probably didn’t ask. He hates when people make him wait for information, he wishes Niall would just tell him because there is a million things going on in his head. Niall, of all people, wouldn’t search through the whole campus trying to find him if it wasn’t that serious.

“Is it Sophia?” Zayn urges, tugging on his jacket as he follows Niall out of the art studio.

“Yeah. But she’s okay.” Niall’s car is outside waiting for them, and Zayn only hesitates a second before getting in. Liam had told him about how Niall likes to ignore the speed limit and mostly every other rule of driving. “Fuck, dude I don’t actually know. Liam was really difficult to understand over the phone? But I know he clearly said she is okay.” He pauses again before putting the key into the ignition. “Well, I mean he could have just been saying that to convince himself. I don –“

“Drive, Niall,” Zayn snaps, heart picking up.

He has no idea what kind of surgery is needed to rid a hematoma, or what even kind of hematoma she has. But any kind of surgery near the brain sounds dangerous enough for him to be alarmed. Niall doesn’t explain anything more to him, just that he had called Liam and got Liam crying on the other end.

Zayn is thankful Niall ignores the speed limit, because they make it there in less than an hour, Niall dropping him off in front of the main hospital entrance before he drives off to find a parking spot.

It is easy to find Liam once he gives the front desk Sophia’s name, though they tell him he can’t visit her. He sees the back of Liam’s head, shoulders hunched over and face pressed against his hands in the waiting room.

Zayn slows. Mrs. Smith has her head resting on a man’s shoulders, eyes closed. The man is awake, not looking at him because he doesn’t know Zayn. Zayn usually leaves before Mr. Smith gets home.

If Sophia was okay surely they still wouldn’t be here, or at least, Mrs. Smith wouldn’t be sleeping –

“Liam,” Zayn says softly, fingers sliding across Liam’s shoulder. The older man jolts and the look on his face breaks Zayn, making him fall to his knees in front of him, fingers pressing at his cheeks so he will look at him.

His whole face is red, the skin under his eyes swollen, lips reddened and raw from chewing at them, and the expression on his face hurts to look see.

“What are you doing here?” He says, voice watery.

“Niall came to get me,” Zayn explains quickly. “Liam, what –“

Liam sits up straight before fully standing, shaking his head and grabbing Zayn’s elbow to pull him with him. “Gonna go outside for a beat,” he says to Mr. Smith.

“Alright, son. Go back to the hotel if you want. We will call you if anything changes.”

Liam nods, before turning and heading in the direction Zayn just came.

“Liam, what is it?” Zayn insists as they walk off, Liam’s arm sliding around his lower back.

“The clot caused swelling,” Liam says, waving at the side of his head as if he is indicating where. “Too much pressure against her skull, they had to fucking induce a coma in order to be able to what they intended to do, I guess.”

Zayn just listens, not understanding. He doesn’t know much about medical anything really, but he knows _coma_ is bad.

“She’ll be fine, like overall,” Liam continues. “But we didn’t know it was that bad. They _said_ that it wasn’t that bad.”

He makes a noise of frustration, his free hand coming to wipe down his face.

“If she is going to be okay,” Zayn starts hesitantly. “What is making you so upset?”

“It’s fucking terrifying Zayn,” Liam says harshly, dropping his arm to look at him. Zayn flinches, biting the inside of his cheek because he knows Liam is just upset, and doesn’t mean to direct it towards him. “The last time she had a surgery this serious, she came out not being able to form words as well as she had before. And they didn’t induce a coma last time, just operated. Who knows what is going to happen now from the hematoma or from the coma. It’s hard enough to see her as is, Zayn.”

Zayn wraps his arms around Liam’s shoulders, tugging him to his chest so he can calm down, so he doesn’t feel like Zayn isn’t on his side. He keeps talking, words muffled against his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go back to the hotel. Mr. Smith said he would call you,” Zayn coos, itching his fingers in the short hairs at the back of Liam’s head. “I’ll drive, just show me the way.”

“You can drive?” Liam asks, wiping at his face. “That’s my baby. Do you even have your license?” His lips quirk up, sniffling the rest of his tears when he pulls Zayn to his chest. It is a weak smile, but it is a step in the right direction, at least.

They meet up with Niall, who claps Liam on the head, a serious look twisting over his features as he searches Liam’s face. Zayn just stares at them at first, confused because they don’t really say anything but Liam nods at Niall, so he steps away and lets them have their moment before Liam’s linking their fingers and inviting Niall back to the hotel with him.

Niall drives behind them, making sure they get back safe because even though Liam had been joking earlier, he still insisted on driving. Niall doesn’t stay though, making sure Liam promises to call him with updates when he gets them before he leaves.

“He’s a good friend,” Zayn says, helping Liam out of his jacket when they get inside. It is a small room, a single queen bed, a desk and a dresser, and Liam has only brought one duffel bag even though Zayn is pretty sure he is supposed to be here until Sunday night.

“Yeah,” Liam says tiredly. “I couldn’t stand him in high school. Not sure when that changed, but I’m glad it did. Hey - are you sure you don’t mind staying? You can probably call him before he gets on the highway.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Zayn asks hesitantly, fingers sliding to his pocket to reach for his phone.

“Yes, please. I just don’t want you to miss your classes,” Liam yawns, slumping onto the bed without taking his jeans or boots off. Zayn unties them, watching Liam as he throws an arm over his face so those four chevrons stand out.

He is snoring by the time Zayn manages to get his jeans past his hips, and he is too heavy for Zayn to reposition on the bed so he makes himself small beside Liam, hoping Liam doesn’t shove him off accidentally.

He doesn’t, instead rolls on top of him, heavy on his smaller frame but Zayn clings to him until he is asleep too.

 

Zayn stays with Liam for the weekend. They visit the hospital a few times, but there is no change – just a promise of one. He doesn’t understand half of the things the doctors say, and Liam looks like he doesn’t either, but Mrs. Smith seems to be optimistic so Zayn tries to help Liam to be that way too. It’s not really easy.

He calls and apologizes about missing his Friday shift to Higgins, who doesn’t seem to mind. He seems to get it, that something is up and doesn’t press him for questions.

Liam sleeps and Zayn doesn’t mind because he knows how exhausted he is, so he just draws, legs crossed as he sits next to Liam. He draws him with his mouth hanging open, he draws him with his face relaxed and overwhelmingly young looking. He draws himself beside him and that one he ends up folding up and shoving into Liam’s dashboard when he runs into the store to pay for gas on their way back to school. 

“Thank you for being there for me,” Liam says as he walks Zayn up to his room, stopping him before they get to his door.

“Always will be,” Zayn promises, managing a smile.

Liam presses him against the wall, resting their foreheads together.

“I know it’s going to be hard coming up but, could you please tell me if that changes?” Liam whispers, replacing his forehead with his lips against Zayn’s skin.

Zayn just nods, wishing it was that easy to promise.

**February**

“Be honest,” Harry says hesitantly, grimacing as he looks at Zayn as if he is genuinely worried about him, but Zayn knows Harry is making fun of him. “Are you going through your mid-life crisis?”

Zayn frowns at him. “I am not forty, so no.”

“Quarter life crisis?” Harry corrects, lips quirking up as he reaches out and tickles his fingers through the streak of blond now occupying the front of Zayn’s quiff.

It was a spur of the moment, when he went to the ink shop downtown. He got paid while he was out of town with Liam, and came back and might have splurged on a few tattoos instead of saving up like he had planned. He was just going to get the one, the blocky heart against his hip, but then he came up with the one he got done today, the red and yellow _Zap_ stretching across his forearm.

And then he decided on the blond streak while he had been sitting in the tattoo shop. He thought maybe a new hairdo would make him feel better, because it has been two weeks since he has seen Liam, he can’t focus long enough on his piece for the art show to actually work on it, and his classes have decided to assign four million different homework assignments for every week. So he feels shitty.

Maybe Harry is right and he is going through his quarter life crisis.

“Looks good,” Harry says. “Not as nice as my new hair style though.”

Zayn shrugs to not fuel his ego. Harry is doing something different with it, but he isn’t quite sure what he is going for. Maybe a quiff? But the sides are too unruly for him to quite manage it. It works for him, at least.

“Well Niall likes it,” Harry says defensively when Zayn doesn’t respond. “I don’t care if you do.”

“Niall likes you,” Zayn clarifies, pointing his cigarette at Harry. The cold nips at his skin and he should probably go inside, because Liam’s varsity jacket is doing little to keep him warm, even though he wears a hoodie underneath it as well. “Shave all of your hair off if you want to see if it’s real, they say.”

Harry looks at him like he suggested something awful. “Just because you’re having a crisis doesn’t mean you have to put that all on me, Zayn.”

Zayn stubs his cigarette out, grinning. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“No reason,” Harry lies, sliding his fingers into his pockets. That is new too, the tight style of his jeans. He can barely fit his abnormally large hands in the pockets, so he just hooks the tips of his fingers. It looks uncomfortable.

“You’re lying?” Zayn points out, unlocking the door to his building. “Why?”

“Because it’s stupid,” Harry admits, following Zayn inside. If he waits long enough, Harry will blurt it out. And he does. “Niall asked me out on a date. Um and, we don’t really do that. So I freaked and said no.”

Zayn doesn’t mean to sound so shocked when he says, “What?” but Harry and Niall have been Harry and Niall for like two years now. He _is_ shocked.

“I know,” Harry complains. “But I got nervous. I told him we could go to the Cupid party tomorrow together instead. He didn’t seem upset but I feel like he probably is?”

“Yeah, probably,” Zayn says gently. There is no point in trying to sugar coat it. Niall and Harry are stable, secure – the only thing that isn’t confusing to Zayn. (And yeah, that is probably selfish of him but what the hell is Harry thinking?)

Harry groans, clenching his eyes shut. “And now it is too late for me to change my mind because every place near here is probably completely booked because it’s Valentine’s Day. And what if he asks me to be his boyfriend? What am I supposed to do? What if he googled how to be romantic and decided asking me out on Valentine’s Day was the way to go?”

Zayn grabs Harry’s shoulders, giving him a serious look. “Say yes. It is just a label. That is the only difference. You two are already completely committed to each other. Remember? Telling anyone who hits on you that you have a boyfriend?”

Harry grimaces at this and that look that always spreads dread through Zayn appears on his face. “Well, not everyone. I might have, sort of.” He pauses, his frown deepening. “Told Louis I was single.”

Zayn shoves him in the chest. “When did you even talk to Louis? Why did you even talk to Louis? How Harry -”

Harry shrugs, arms flying out like this mystery confuses him just as much. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him since. I’ve avoided his texts because he wants to ‘hang out.’” His air quotes seem violent, and Zayn is pretty sure he just pulled a muscle or something.

“Don’t,” Zayn says seriously. “Do not, Harry. Unless you don’t want to be with Niall. Do you want to be with Niall?”

He unlocks his bedroom door, walking past his suitemates without word. It’s normal. They rarely ever talk unless they need something like toilet paper or dish soap or a pencil sharpener, because even after five months, none of them have decided it would be a good idea to actually buy one for themselves.

“Of course I want to be with Niall,” Harry insists. “I don’t know what my problem is.”

He sighs, flopping on Zayn’s bed as Zayn shrugs off his jacket, wincing when the material drags against the fresh tattoo on his arm.

“What about you? What are you and Liam doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing. Just friends, remember?” He says, tone colder than he intends. He fixes the clear wrap around his arm, making sure not to tug on it because the guy did a shitty job of wrapping it up.

He is trying to be okay about it. He just wants to be around Liam, and he isn’t sure if that would make this easier or harder. Maybe he should actually say that to Liam, suggest that they hang out or something, but for some reason he is just too nervous to -

Harry snorts. “Friends who fuck, remember?”

“We haven’t fucked in a month. And I have seen him four times in that month.”

Harry sighs, loud and dramatic. “At least I’m not the only one who has a problem.”

He ducks when Zayn chucks a pen at his head, laughter filling the room.

 

Zayn told himself he wasn’t going to let it bother him. He insisted that he wouldn’t allow it, and he would ignore the constant red and pink decorations, the hearts, the sweetheart signs and all the other bullshit that reminds him that Liam hasn’t been around in two weeks, and he isn’t going to be around for Valentine’s Day either.

And even if he were, they aren’t together so it hardly matters.

But Zayn lied, he is a _liar_ , because it is definitely bothering him. He misses half of his lecture in Drawing II, staring at the heart cutouts stringed across the top of the board, thinking about how romantic Liam is, and how he would probably buy him flowers and chocolate and open the door for him and do other cute shit that would make Zayn feel stupid for liking it so much.

He takes it out on Louis, unfairly so. Louis just keeps talking, whispering things to him as the teacher talks that he tries to ignore, but he says Harry at one point, and Zayn doesn’t let him finish before he is ripping his attention from the worksheet in front of him to snap at Louis.

“Harry has a boyfriend,” he whispers through tight lips. “Leave it be. Drop it, stop fucking talking to him. About him. Don’t go there.”

Louis looks taken aback, mouth falling open and hands going up, palms facing Zayn. “Sorry, bro. What crawled up your ass?”

“You’re getting on my nerves,” Zayn tells him, turning back to his worksheet when the professor directs his attention to them. Louis mutters something under his breath that he doesn’t hear. Zayn just wants the day to be over.

He feels bad afterwards, when he walks into the art studio a few hours later and there is a box of chocolate cupcakes waiting for him, with pink heart sprinkles on top of them and a note stuck to the box that says “ _I’m sorry for getting on your nerves– Louis x_.”

Higgins doesn’t ask, just sends Zayn off to stock the supply room, stealing a cupcake from him before he goes. He gets Louis’ number from Harry (how did Harry even get it?), ignoring Harry’s questions on _why_ , so he can text Louis an apology and a thank you.

He wants to text Liam, but he doesn’t. They had talked earlier in the week, over text message, about how Sophia is still in the hospital but apparently they still shouldn’t be alarmed. Zayn doesn’t understand induced comas, doesn’t understand how you can control a coma, or why she is still in one. He had tried researching it, but it had just made him more nervous about the whole thing so he stopped.

“You can leave early tonight,” Higgins comes in to tell him two hours before his shift ends. “I’ve got a date with the wife. Have fun tonight, yeah? Be safe.”

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Zayn mumbles. “I have a date with the Hobbit movies. It’s going to be real wild.”

Higgins laughs, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. I don’t want to see you in the Police Logs on Monday. I can’t begin to tell you how many college kids get arrested for public indecency the night of the Cupid party.”

Zayn stares after him as he goes, wondering how the hell he knows about that when Zayn hadn’t heard about it from anyone else but Harry. It is just another party at one of the frat houses, using Valentine’s Day as an excuse to actually have one. Which is pointless in Zayn’s opinion, either they or Tom, from the football team, have one practically every week without a reason.

His suitemates are gone when he gets back to his dorm, so he takes advantage of the living room television, falling on the couch as the start of the first Hobbit movie plays. It’s strangely comforting, even though he knows when he gets to the newest, he isn’t going to be able to stop thinking about the first time he and Liam hung out, just the two of them.

He is halfway through the movie and the box of chocolate cupcakes when there is a knock at his door.

For a wild moment, one that tugs at his chest, he thinks it might be Liam. But it’s not. It is Louis, standing there with a sheepish smile on his face, a box of pizza in one hand and a bag of what looks to be Chinese food in the other.

Zayn gapes at him, considering closing the door and reopening it just to see if his mind is messing with him.

“Harry told me where you live. Um, and that you weren’t doing anything tonight. And neither am I so –“ He holds out the food, a hopeful look on his face. “I brought an apology meal?”

Zayn stands back to let him through. “You didn’t have to apologize. I’m sorry. Just in a bad mood and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Louis shrugs, that playful smile back on his face. “No problem, bro. I get it. Oh the Hobbit. I love this movie.”

He sits where Zayn was sitting on the couch, looking more comfortable than Zayn feels as Zayn gets plates and napkins.

“And by the way, Harry was pretty suspicious about my intentions. So this is not a date,” Louis clarifies sternly, looking at Zayn seriously until he nods to show he understands. “In case he asks. Not that you aren’t like, attractive or whatever but I don’t like people who are better at things than me.”

Zayn snorts. “Okay, Louis.”

It is not so bad, hanging out with Louis. He is a lot calmer, and Zayn hopes it has nothing to do with the fact that he snapped at him earlier, because he does feel really bad about that. Louis is not a bad guy or anything, he is just a lot sometimes. They don’t talk about why neither one of them doesn’t actually have plans on Valentine’s Day night, but they talk about the movie and comics when Louis notices Zayn’s new tattoo. He shows Zayn his, small items sprinkled up his arms.

_do u have a date 2nt_

Zayn stares at the text message before texting back _no_. Louis glances at him, mouth falling open like he wants to ask but he doesn’t.

_miss u_

Zayn doesn’t respond, but sets his phone on the table because he can’t handle that. His phone lights up a few more times, vibrating against the table but Zayn ignores it.

“Boyfriend troubles?” Louis finally asks, standing up to put in the second Hobbit movie for them. It is a bit strange how at home Louis has made himself, or how quickly. It fits his personality, though.

“Sort of,” Zayn grumbles back, taking another slice of pizza. His stomach is starting to bloat from eating so much, but Liam’s shirt is big enough on him that he doesn’t feel bad about it yet.  

Louis’ nose scrunches in distaste. “Gross. Liam seems like a dick, no offense.”

Zayn doesn’t ask how he knows Liam, because he is used to everyone knowing Liam. “He’s not,” he sighs, fingers dragging through his hair before he reaches for the phone. “He is a really great guy, actually. Just, I don’t know. Confusing, I guess.”

_rly miss u_

_makes my chest do the thng_

_they r play our song rn u know search 4 real love_

_wish u wer here_

Zayn rereads the messages a few times before he puts his phone down. If he didn’t know any better, he would think Liam is drunk. But Liam doesn’t drink, and he has no clue where Liam is right now, but he is probably half asleep, exhaustion taking over because he has meetings with his coach on Friday, and his coach always works him too hard.

And they don’t even have a song.

“Relationships are always confusing. That’s why you need to just hit it and quit it,” Louis says as if it is simple. Zayn grimaces at him.

“No thanks. I’d rather just be with Liam.”

Louis offers him an egg roll, eyebrows wiggling. Zayn manages a grin, taking the egg roll to pop into his mouth.

Louis leaves before the second movie finishes and Zayn shuts it off, too tired to finish it and ready for bed. Liam’s texting is getting worse, harder to understand with each one that comes through and it is starting to concern him but when he calls, Liam doesn’t answer.

It is not until Harry calls, that it confirms his suspicions that Liam is probably drunk. Because Harry is, words dragging, lips too close to the phone, the muffled sound of loud music in the background.

“Niall said don’t call,” Harry laughs. “But you’re my best friend, Zayner.”

“Okay, Harry, what is it?” Zayn says tightly, patience wearing out. Harry talks slow to begin with, and when he is drunk, it takes him forever to get a sentence out of him.

“Your boyfriend is here. He is really funny when he is drink – Hey!” Harry says, voice loud and cracking into the phone. Zayn flinches away, listening to Harry yell at someone indistinctly before he is back. “He should be with you tonight. I’m going to go yell at –“

“No,” Zayn nearly shouts into the phone. He doesn’t want to risk Harry telling him something accidentally. Like _hey, my best friend is heartbroken and alone because he is in love with you, cock butt_ -“Just give me the address, I will be there."

Finally, after Harry struggles to get the address of the party out, Zayn grabs his winter coat and runs out, not caring that he actually threw on two different sneakers and he is wearing pajama pants.

It is not hard to find Liam once he gets to the house. He is a few feet away from the door, arm around some guy Zayn somewhat recognizes. He is only wearing a white tank top despite the cold, and he plays with the black snapback on his head, a goofy grin on his face and eyes out of focus as he says something to the guy.

Niall is beside him, a frown setting on his lips when he spots Zayn. “He is going to be pissed tomorrow when he finds out you saw him like this.”

“I’m pissed off now,” Zayn grits out. Harry is a little farther into the crowd, tugging on Jack’s shirt as he laughs at something.

Liam lets go of the man, mouth falling open in a laugh. “Zayn,” he says, reaching out to pinch Zayn’s chin. He is definitely drunk, because his eyes fall close, nose crinkling and his fingers slip against Zayn’s skin.

And he fucking smells like a brewery.

“You came.”

He looks so happy, so small and fragile when he says it that Zayn doesn’t want to be angry but he is. He is angry Liam is drunk, because he doesn’t understand why, and he is angry Liam came to the stupid fucking cupid party instead of coming to see him, even though he hadn’t made any effort to see Liam, either.

“I missed you,” Liam grins, stumbling forward to wrap an arm around Zayn. He nearly rests his whole weight on Zayn and Niall reaches out, forcing Liam back with a hand against his chest so he can’t.

“Oh no,” Niall groans, looking slightly panicked. “Shut up, dude.”

“What?” Liam says, an offended look crossing his face. “I just want Zayn to know that I –“

Niall claps a hand over his lips. “Shut up, Liam.” He pushes him harder in the chest so he is no longer trying to lean on top of Zayn. Zayn keeps a hold of his waist though, stumbling with him because he hates the tight set of Liam’s lips, hates that it is directed towards Niall even more.

“Wanna come with me?” Zayn says, distracting Liam. The change in his face is instant, brightening the moment his eyes find Zayn. He is like a grown, really heavy, six year old.

Niall looks hesitant, but he reaches into his pocket and hands Zayn Liam’s keys. “Just be careful, yeah. He’s heavy?”

“All these muscles,” Liam mutters, pressing his lips to the side of Zayn’s head. He would laugh normally, or groan because the muscles of his arms look really nice when he slings an arm over Zayn’s shoulders, but right now he is a little too irritated to be fond over Liam.

Zayn is so thankful Liam brought his truck to the party because he isn’t too sure he can drag Liam to his apartment with the way he is leaning his whole weight against Zayn as Zayn tries to press his weight back to keep them up right. It would probably take them the rest of the night to get back that way.

“My baby,” Liam hums when they get to the truck, only resisting some when Zayn guides him to the passenger seat. He is not sure what was going through this Liam’s mind, bringing a truck to a party where he was going to get drunk, and having a car that is even harder to get into when you are drunk. He hopes having Niall take his keys was the plan before he came, because Niall didn’t look like he had been drinking any.

“Only I can drive,” Liam says, frowning but his eyes close as Zayn pulls the seatbelt across his chest.

“You’re drunk,” Zayn reminds him sharply.

“You’re right,” Liam sighs, eyes fluttering open. He reaches up, holding Zayn’s face. Zayn only stills, his breath hitching. “Niall took my keys.”

“I have them. You have to let me go, so I can get you home.” He is worried about Liam not having a coat but Liam’s skin feels like fire against his own.

“Tried that. Can’t do it.”

Liam’s eyes close again before Zayn can ask him what the hell he is talking about. He pulls away, placing Liam’s hands on his lap before he climbs into the front seat.

It is really hard to drive the truck, and he is thankful the roads are practically empty because Zayn feels like he is maneuvering a tank and he doesn’t feel safe, at all. He accidentally takes up two parking spots in Liam’s parking lot, and he hopes no one minds, because Liam is grabbing his stomach, grimacing and he doesn’t want Liam to get sick in his clean truck if he takes the time to fix it.

He doesn’t get sick so Zayn presses him onto the bed, flat on his back with an empty trash can beside him just in case. Liam slings an arm over his face, humming something low in his throat as Zayn climbs into the space beside him. He is not leaving Liam alone, in case he tries to use the bathroom and hurts himself, and because he wants to know why the fuck Liam decided to drink.

“That’s our song, you know,” Liam mumbles.

“No, I don’t know,” Zayn says shortly. He can’t make out the tune at all.

“Real love, I’m searching for a real love,” Liam sings weakly. It takes a minute for Zayn to recognize what he is singing because he is horribly off beat, half singing half speaking the words. It’s the song he had been playing all winter, the song that had been playing in the truck when Zayn went to Liam’s house for the first time. “And though we made it through the storm –“

“How? How is that our song?” He interrupts, making Liam flinch.

Liam’s arm slides off his face and he frowns. “Why not?”

“We haven’t made it through the storm,” Zayn whispers, sinking farther on the bed so he can lie face to face with Liam when he rolls over onto his side. “We just kind of pretended it didn’t happen for a few weeks.”

Liam rests a hand against Zayn’s face and Zayn isn’t sure he heard what he said. “But you’re my real love.”

Zayn tries to ignore the way that makes his chest feel. Liam is just drunk, and he probably shouldn’t have tried to talk to him anyway. “Liam, you don’t drink. What made you drink?”

His eyes fall shut again. “M’ nervous ‘bout Soph. You said you drink to forget about me, so I drank to forget about it.”

Zayn flinches, and Liam’s eyes flick open, moving his hand to slide down to his side, tugging him close. “Don’t want to think about it, Zayn please.”

It’s pleading, the way he says it and Zayn gets it, because he had been drinking to forget Liam. He is mad yeah, that Liam did that, but he isn’t going to lecture Liam the way Liam had lectured him.

“Okay,” Zayn mutters, letting Liam rest his head against his chest.

“Okay.”

Zayn hesitates, resting his chin on the top of Liam’s head. “Liam?”

“Hm?”

“Am I really your real love?”

Liam’s head moves against his chest, arm tightening around him. “Never loved anyone the way I love you, Zayn. Makes my chest do the thing -”

Zayn sighs, squeezing closer to Liam. He shouldn’t have asked, because he had been expecting the opposite. The opposite would make more sense.

 

Zayn sneaks out before Liam is awake, before the sun rises and before he has to deal with the pain in his chest that has been keeping him up all night. He puts a few water bottles on Liam’s nightstand before he goes, lips to his forehead, trying to settle the uneasy feeling wavering through him because he isn’t coming back.

Friendship can’t be for them, it can’t work.  He calls his mom, flooding her ear with everything that had happened over the last few months. She listens patiently, not giving him advice like she knows he doesn’t need that. She doesn’t tell him it is going to be okay, and he doesn’t want to hear that either.

He texts Niall not to tell Liam about what happened the night before, hoping Liam is too drunk to remember. They can go back to sometimes texting, never seeing each other and Zayn will move on.

He can’t do the weeks of bad, with tiny moments of Liam telling him he misses him like he did in the winter, and then again the night before, because he just accepts it, unable to say no and being with Liam before he regrets it again when Liam is gone.

Zayn finishes the first part of his piece for the art show, banging it out in one sitting because Higgins leaves the keys to the studio next to him without word. He considers starting the second part, but when he sees it is nearly midnight, he decides it can wait.

Liam texts him sometimes but Zayn is short in responses. They talk on the phone when Sophia wakes up from her coma on the twentieth. He pretends the feeling in his chest is relief from the news about Sophia and not the pain of hearing Liam’s voice.  

**March**

Zayn finishes the second piece, and something he works on in class for Sophia. He brings it over and gives it to Mrs. Smith, who tells him she is not ready for visitors yet. Zayn is bummed, because he didn’t realize until that moment how badly he needed to see Sophia, and doesn’t mention the fact that he had tried to come over the day before but Liam’s truck had been in the driveway.

He hangs out with Louis more, and regrets giving him such a hard time when they had first met. He is actually quite fun to be around and it makes his annoying moments a bit easier to deal with. Louis is the only person that Zayn hangs out with that doesn’t remind him of Liam in some way, and he needs that.

Harry finally agrees to the label. _Boyfriends_. Niall is beaming when Harry tells him, under his breath with a sigh like he doesn’t care but Zayn is happy for him because he knows he does.

Zayn doesn’t see Liam or respond to his texts, and after a few weeks Liam gets the hint and stops trying.

 

“This is college,” Safaa says, frowning as she looks around his dorm room. His younger sisters are staying the weekend at Doniya’s, and Safaa insisted on seeing his room before they head over there.

“Yeah, high class living,” Zayn tells her, ruffling his fingers through her hair. “Not even the best part. The rest of the buildings are for learning.”

Waliyha snorts, flopping on his bed, focused on her phone like she has been since their parents dropped them off. Even if she is off in her little world, Zayn is just happy that she is here.

“What else do you do here?” Safaa asks curiously, prodding around the things in his room. “Where do you and your friends hang out?”

“Yeah, where do you and Harry hang out?” Waliyha grins. “He is your only friend right?”

Zayn flicks her off when Safaa turns her head. His older sister’s knack for teasing him is rubbing off on her.  He is fond of it. “I have two, actually. Let’s go to Doniya’s now, yeah?”

They set up blankets in the living room, moving the furniture to make room for all of them. Safaa sits between Zayn’s legs, resting against him as they watch the movie Waliyha selected, phone discarded finally.

“Isn’t this movie a little scary for you?” Zayn says quietly to Safaa, so he doesn’t embarrass her in front of the rest of the girls. He keeps his fingers in her hair like Doniya used to do, when it was just the two of them.

Safaa frowns at him. “Doniya said you cried when you watched this movie when you were little.”

Zayn grins, not denying it. He watched Jumanji once with Doniya and a few of their cousins when Waliyha was still a baby, probably around Safaa’s age now, and he had been terrified to play board games ever since. And don’t even get him started on monkeys -

Safaa’s voice softens into a whisper, like they are sharing secrets. “I won’t tell anyone that you get scared if you can get me some hot chocolate.”

Zayn snorts. “Deal.”

He asks Doniya where the hot chocolate it is and she cusses, realizing she had forgotten it. Safaa isn’t happy with her because “Doniya, you promised me hot chocolate -“

“I’ll get some,” Danielle says, getting up from the floor with a soft smile, tugging out her phone from where it is buried in the blankets. “I just have to put more clothes on. Five minutes max.”

Zayn is tired, but he forces his eyes to stay open because he has missed his sisters and he really wants hot chocolate too. He wants to savor every moment with them, because the weekend will be over in no time, and even though his sisters are a pain in his ass, just being around them makes him feel better.

Spring break is coming soon, but the two youngest will still be in school, his parents at work, and he will be stuffed in his room for most of it. He thinks Harry is going out of town with Niall, but he isn’t sure. He keeps avoiding the conversation when Zayn tries to make plans to do something during the break.

Danielle comes back out of her bedroom with longer pants and a hoodie, jogging to the door with an “I got it” when there is a knock.

“Hey, hot chocolate needed?”

Zayn stills, body instantly going rigid when he hears that voice. Safaa jumps up, face brightening considerably as she runs over to the door. Zayn sinks farther against the sofa he is leaning against, keeping his eyes on his feet because he feels Doniya’s eyes on him.

Actually, he is pretty sure everyone just turned to look at him.

“Liam!” Safaa’s voice is shrill, excited, like it is winter and they are chasing each other around with handfuls of snow again.

“Hey Safaa. I guess the hot chocolate is for you?”

Zayn bites on the inside of his cheek, ignoring the way his heart tugs at that soft voice, special just for his baby sister.

“Sure is.”

He feels like he is going to explode, probably, the way the tension is quickly building inside of him. Maybe if he presses himself against the sofa more, he will become one with the piece of furniture and disappear.

“Safaa, come on,” Doniya says, getting up, voice stern. “Watch the movie. I’ll make the hot chocolate and bring you some.”

Zayn glances over his shoulder, around the side of the couch. No, bad idea –

Liam is leaning down, rustling her hair with a happy grin on his face. When he looks up his eyes fall on Zayn, and all the blood quickly rushes to his cheeks, that smile quickly sliding off of his face.

Zayn can’t look away even though he knows his cheeks are turning into the same shade. He hasn’t seen Liam at all, in what feels like forever, and it hurts but it also makes his heart beat the way it used to when it was summer, and he was trying not to act like the boy he used to be, fourteen with a crush -

“Can you stay?” Safaa says, grabbing the material of his shirt to get his attention back to her. “Have some hot chocolate with us? We are watching Jumanji.”

Liam’s eyes flicker to him and he hesitates, the kind smile sliding back onto his face before he answers his little sister. It doesn’t reach his eyes though. “I can’t, Saf. I’m sorry. Maybe another time, yeah?”

“Awe,” Safaa complains, eyes widening into full force puppy eyes. “Not even for the rest of the movie? It is over soon. You don’t have to stay for the second one.”

It isn’t, really, only about twenty minutes in and Liam looks uncomfortable, opening his mouth to probably tell Safaa he really can’t, even though those puppy eyes effect Liam just as much as they do anyone else. Maybe even worse.

“Yeah, Liam,” Zayn says, sitting up a bit straighter so Liam can see him. He clears his throat, trying to keep looking at Liam and not run back to his dorm, pack his stuff, catch a plane and runaway like he had wanted to the first time he had seen Liam last year. “Stay for the rest of the movie. Um like, if you want to that is.”

He knows everyone is staring at him, except for oblivious Safaa, who nods encouragingly, tugging on Liam’s shirt until he is moving further into the apartment. It is probably unfair of him, after weeks of ignoring Liam’s texts, but Liam gives him a nod of understanding. For Safaa.

(At least, that is what Zayn hopes Liam thinks, because he doesn’t want Liam to know that he has been missing him like crazy, even though that is really his own fault.)

“I um, yeah – okay. For a little bit.”

Zayn regrets saying anything when Liam sits across the room from him, body tense even when Safaa curls up next to him, resting her cheek against his side, an arm curling around her shoulders and Zayn is infinitely jealous.

Liam relaxes as the movie goes on, Safaa giggling and whispering something under her breath that makes him laugh too. When his eyes crinkle, full lips parting in a laugh it is hard to remember why Zayn thought it would be a good idea to stay away from him.

“Zayn is afraid of this movie,” he hears Safaa say, but he keeps his face towards the television screen instead of acknowledging the mention of his name. He can feel Liam looking at him though, eyes burning against his skin.

“Well good thing he has you to make him feel better, yeah?” Liam whispers back, something in his voice that Zayn can’t pinpoint but it makes his stomach twist painfully. He lets his hot chocolate go cold on the table beside him, too sick to even try to get any of it down.

Zayn ends up falling asleep before the movie ends, waking up briefly when there is a small body placed next to him. Liam gives him a soft smile that Zayn returns, their eyes staying connected for a beat like neither one of them want to pull away first. Liam brushes a finger against Zayn’s cheek, this thumb pressing into his skin for a beat before pulling away and tucking the blanket around him and his sister.

When he wakes up in the morning, it is to a text from Liam, thanking him for letting him stay and visit with Safaa.

 

“What do you think?” Zayn says, holding the poster up in front of Professor Higgins. The first two pieces are secured onto the board and he gently tacked the rough sketch of the third. He is pushing off finishing the third, because he hasn’t had an inspiration for the fourth, just a general idea -

“You know I can’t help,” Professor Higgins says, lips quirking up. “But between you and me, you are a shoe in. I would spend a lot of money on that, as is.”

Zayn grins, knowing Higgins is just trying to hype him up, make him feel good about himself like he always does. “Yeah, yeah. Thank you.”

“Zayn,” Higgins calls before Zayn can take his poster down and leave. “Try to clear your mind over the next week before you come back, yeah? It is called spring _break_ for a reason.”

Zayn nods, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

He does try, but his room feels like a prison though, the house too empty, too many little things littered around that remind him of Liam, since he hasn’t been home since things were _okay_.

Not the best, but better than now.

So he gets up, dragging himself through the streets of Bradford, to the one place that feels okay to be alone.

The air is cold, still resembling winter but wanting to be spring, but his toes work through the sand, book in his lap as he tries to get lost in something that isn’t necessary for school. It doesn’t work, instead he gets lost in the images stained against the back of his eyelids.

Golden tan skin, muscles flexing underneath as the water splashes around them. Candy pink lips working against his skin, tasting like chlorine or the salt from the ocean, or those marshmallows that Liam insisted were better black instead of golden brown like Zayn preferred.

The soft music from his iPod plays around him, just for some noise because the water is still at the moment. He didn’t purposely play it, but he didn’t change it when it started playing either. _Oh when I met you I just knew that you would take my heart and run_ –

Maybe it is their song, but Zayn thinks maybe it can’t be. He isn’t searching for his real love, he has already found it.

When the cold becomes too much to bear and the sky too dark for him to see the words on the page, he leaves the beach. He smokes on the way home, trying to use the cigarette to rid the itch in his fingers to call Liam.

He goes back, each day, never making it far in his book. This beach isn’t as nice as the one where Harry is vacationing, if the pictures on Facebook are anything to go by. Zayn doesn’t know how warm it is in California, but it looks fairly hot in the photos of him and Niall, skin an angry red from the sun. There are none on his page of Liam, probably for Zayn’s sake, but he finds them anyway on Niall’s (not that he is really looking, or anything.)

He is in a tank top, arms tanned and bulging where they rest over some girl’s shoulders, his other hand playing with the hat secured backwards on his head. His lips are twisted into a smile that Zayn would call his fake smile and Niall is making a face a bit farther back in the picture.

Zayn shouldn’t feel better that the smile isn’t reaching Liam’s eyes, but it makes him feel better that maybe Liam knows what the feeling resting in his chest feels like too.

 

Zayn doesn’t understand why spring break is called spring break, when he is climbing into his parents’ car to go back to school on the first actual day of spring, and he is wearing his winter jacket.

He begs Harry over as soon as his parents leave. He hadn’t felt lonely over the past week, only at times when the day seemed to drag on, but that hadn’t been often. He needed the beach and quiet to clear his mind some. But he has missed Harry all the same.

Harry is nervous, tail between his legs like a puppy until Zayn tugs him into the bed with him, settling his laptop on his knees to watch some new comedy Harry has been going on and on about, using some website that is probably not safe for his computer.

“It wasn’t like, planned for me to go,” Harry says quietly a ways into the movie. Zayn wasn’t planning on bringing it up, because he didn’t know how to and still convince Harry he wasn’t angry at the same time. “Doniya just decided last minute she wasn’t going because of work or something, so they had an extra ticket, and um, Niall offered it to me.”

“It’s okay Haz,” Zayn tells him, and it is honest. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t care. Did you have a good time?”

Harry relaxes, a smile finally sliding across his face, making those dimples in his cheeks stand out. “Yeah dude. But it made me ready for summer, and I can’t afford to be in that mindset with all this shit I have to do.”

“Just one more month, and then exams,” Zayn reminds him. He wishes it were as easy as it sounds, though. One more month of hell, and then exams, would be more accurate to say.

“Yeah,” Harry drags. He fidgets, fingers in his quiff and Zayn waits for it, feeling Harry tense up again. “Can I tell you something?”

Zayn just hums, eyes finding the laptop screen again.

“He asked me about you. How you were doing,” Harry says. He doesn’t clarify who he is, but Zayn knows, thankful that Harry didn’t actually say his name. His best friend hesitates before he adds, “And he asked me why you won’t talk to him, if you were like, purposefully ignoring him or something.”

  _Why_. “What did you say?”

“Don’t get mad. I was a little drunk okay and –“

“Haz,” Zayn says, cutting him off softly. His heart is starting to race and he needs Harry to get on with it so he can start pretending like Harry hadn’t said anything. “It’s okay.”

Harry sighs, giving him a considerate look before he decides Zayn means it. “I told him the break up was hard on you, the whole winter thing was hard on you and you know, that maybe talking to him makes it harder. Well, that talking to him _does_ make it harder.”

Zayn nods, gulping down the knot forming in his throat. “Well,” he says shakily. “It’s not like that isn’t true.”

Harry shifts so he can wrap an arm around Zayn’s shoulder, the side of his head knocking against Zayn’s gently. “He was miserable. Like, a true wounded puppy. I didn’t think that was an expression people could really make, but he proved to me that it is.”

He is trying to be funny, Zayn thinks, but he only manages a weak smile in response. “Did he um, say anything else about me? Or ask anything?”

“No.” The way Harry hesitates though, tells Zayn that isn’t true. “I mean, well, when he asked why you weren’t talking to him, he kind of asked if it was because you hated him or um, were seeing someone else?”

“You told him no, right?”

Liam broke up with him, he shouldn’t care if Liam thinks he is seeing someone else. But he does, he really does.

Because Sophia has it right, and he can’t deal with Liam thinking anything else. He is _Liam’s Zayn._

And how Liam can ever think he hates him doesn’t make any sense at all. _It’s not that surprising that she figured it out. You should see the way you look at me -_

“Yeah. That is okay, right? You don’t hate him?”

“Of course I don’t,” Zayn snaps, sinking into Harry’s side. He turns his face, words muffled against Harry’s sweater. “I don’t think I could ever hate someone I love that much.”

“Zayn,” Harry says softly, dragging his fingers through Zayn’s hair. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Zayn assures him. “But yeah, maybe we shouldn’t talk about it anymore. Let’s just watch this movie.”

“What is going on in this movie, anyway?”

Zayn shrugs, and he doesn’t find out, too lost in the thoughts in his head.

**April**

It is not that warm, but it is _warmer_. If he ignores the wind, he can almost feel the heat from the sun on his skin. At least he can forego his bulky winter jacket for a thinner jean one, so that is a plus.

Zayn sits in the park, at one of the picnic tables, trying to work on his drawing. He had to push it off the last two weeks because of school work. There are a lot of people out today, because of the warmer weather, and some people must seem to think it is actually summer since they are wearing shorts and tank tops.

He ends up watching the people around him more so than focusing on the paper in front of him. Mostly college kids, who should be focusing on school work instead of enjoying the warmer weather because April is always the worst. At least, according to Harry and Doniya who have been swamped with final projects and essays. Exams aren’t for another few weeks, and Zayn will wait until then to worry about them, even though he knows that is just setting himself up for disaster.

“ _Liam’s Zayn_.”

There is a smile on his face before he turns. Sophia sits in her wheel chair, returning the smile and her father behind her with his hands on the bars. She looks good, a little fuller in the cheeks, and hair shaved much shorter, a small spot of stubble on the side that Zayn assumes is where they operated. Her eyes are bright, much different than the last time he saw her when he visited with Liam.

Zayn has missed her.

“Hey Soph,” he says, nose crinkling as he reaches out to tickle her chin. He doesn’t think about it at first, but his hand falls away when he realizes.

“Ronald Smith. Sophia’s dad,” Mr. Smith greets, holding his hand out beside Sophia that Zayn shakes. “We didn’t get a chance to meet at the hospital.”

“Sorry about that,” Zayn says nervously. He is kind looking, just like Sophia’s mother, wrinkles surrounding the corners of his eyes and his hair grayed. “Zayn Malik.”

“The art boy,” he says, grinning, his smile the same as the one Sophia wears. “Sophia really loved the one you brought over after she came home.”

“Beautiful,” Sophia says. “Thank you.”

Zayn pulls his bag onto his lap, digging for the sketch pad that he uses in his free time and not for school. He carefully rips out a few of the pages in the back, showing them to Sophia before handing them to her father. “Would you like these ones too?”

She nods. There are mostly of Sophia and Liam, and a few rough sketches of just Liam when he was trying to figure out how to finish the art show piece, etching out the flowers starting to bloom and the way the trees are starting to come back to life. “Thank you.”

“Sophia has been asking for you to come by, if you would like to,” Mr. Smith offers. “She is doing okay now, for visitors. And today is a nice day, so we figured we would get her out of that room.”

Sophia giggles. “And Liam.”

“Right. Are you here with Liam?”

Zayn looks at Mr. Smith, lips parting before he shakes his head. He wonders what Liam has told them, if he had told them about the fact that they aren’t speaking. “No. Is he supposed to be here?”

Mr. Smith nods. “We are meeting him and the girls here. For lunch. A celebration sort of thing for -”

Zayn opens up his bag again as Mr. Smith talks, rolling up the piece of paper on the table, and Mr. Smith looks alarmed before he says, “You’re welcome to join, Zayn.”

“Oh thank you,” Zayn tries quickly. “I actually was just about to leave um, I have a thing. Uh I mean - work, I have work.” He bends down, tickling Sophia’s chin again. “I’ll come for a visit soon, okay?”

He manages to leave without seeing Liam, only running into the girls before he heads back to campus.

Liam texts him that night. It is just a simple ‘hey’, but Zayn ignores it. He does it twice more, over the next week. Zayn just doesn’t get it. He hasn’t moved on, but at least he can go ten minutes now without his mind wandering back to Liam, without his lungs feeling like they can’t work properly when he does think about Liam.

Maybe it is because it is getting close to the draft pick, at the end of the month. It is all in the newspapers. Even people at Everton are talking about it – bringing it up to Zayn even though they have been broken up for longer than they were together.

He doesn’t know, but it is really fucking hard not to respond back.

 

Zayn hates the rain. Seriously. It is pouring, smacking against the pavement angrily. There is no way his backpack isn’t going to get soaked in that, because it takes at least ten minutes to get back to his dorm. Thankfully he can leave his art in the studio so it doesn’t end up ruined by the rain pellets.

He kind of hates himself at the moment, because even though it had been raining when he left his dorm, he hadn’t thought about changing into boots instead of  his converses, he didn’t bring an umbrella or even a thick enough jacket to somewhat keep him dry. He is wearing a jean jacket over a hoodie, and seriously, what had he been thinking?

His phone vibrates, and fuck, he didn’t think about that either. He shoves it under his hoodie, securing it under the waistband of his jeans so maybe, he prays, that it doesn’t get ruined too.

Zayn runs, trying to dodge the drops of rain that are coming down like bullets. He needs to start working out or something because his lungs are on fire, legs aching by the time he spots his dorm building. A warm shower would be so nice, and his bed, oh god his bed –

Zayn fumbles to find his keys, slowing down to a jog as he tugs them out of his backpack. Yeah, everything is soaked, his notebooks starting to curl around the edges, the cardboard covering his pencils turning a dark shade.

“Zayn, wait up!”

Liam is running towards him, just as wet as him. Zayn squints his eyes because it is dark and the rain is messing with his vision. He really needs to work on not seeing Liam in everything, everyone.  

It _is_ Liam though, hair matted to his forehead and a blue cotton shirt clinging to his chest. At least he was smart enough to wear boots, but he isn’t wearing a jacket and it is freezing, so they are both equally out of their minds.

“What the fuck, Liam. It is pouring – what are you doing here?”

“Have to ask you something,” Liam gets out.  He is out of breath, and Zayn isn’t sure why, because Liam could probably run laps around this campus without getting too tired.

“So you were waiting in the rain? Do you know how to text?”

“Tried that. I have been calling too, but you’ve kind of been ignoring me.” He grimaces at himself before adding, “And I was waiting in my truck.” He nudges his head towards the parking lot, where Zayn can almost make out the shape of the truck.

As much as Zayn hates the rain coming down on him, his feet are rooted to the ground, gaping at Liam.  He considers turning around and just going inside, but Liam looks serious. It has been two days since Liam last tried texting him, and Zayn had thought he had given up again.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” he says before Zayn can decide what to do. Do they really have to do this here? “I need to know why you stopped talking to me.”

“Liam, what – “

“Zayn it’s important,” he interrupts, sounding just as desperate as he looks. “I just need to know.”

Liam’s busy schedule is clearly starting to get to him because he is insane.

“You won’t talk to me, but you’ve given Soph all of these drawings of me. I found one in my car, and that night at your sisters - I don’t know Zayn, maybe I shouldn’t try to figure out how you feel by the look on your face, but you’re not really giving me a choice.”

It seems like Liam can’t stop the flood of words rushing past his lips and he looks apologetic when he pauses, taking a deep breath before he continues.

“Niall told me,” Liam goes on, slower this time, not waiting any longer for Zayn to respond. “About how you brought me home drunk the night of the cupid party. Does it have to do with that?”

 Zayn glares, finding his voice. “Did I stop talking to you because you were drunk? No.”

“How about me telling you I love you?”

Zayn stares at him, mouth falling open. He was sure Liam had been drunk enough that he could get away with pretending Liam never told him that, that he never heard Liam tell him that he felt the same. _Feels_ the same.

Liam comes closer, closing the space between them in just two steps. Zayn can just make out the scent of his cologne through the smell of rain and he wants to press his face into Liam’s chest to comfort the hurt seeping through him.

“I didn’t know if I did or not, but the expression on your face confirms that I did.” Liam huffs out a breath, a ghost of smile on his lips but it isn’t a happy smile, really. “It’s true, you know. I meant it, in case you didn’t think so because I was drunk when I said it. I just didn’t mean to tell you that way though.”

“Did you come to tell me in the pouring rain? Like we are in some romance movie?”

“I am a romantic,” Liam grins. It slips off his face though when he realizes Zayn isn’t going to laugh at that. The only kind of laugh Zayn could muster right now would be full of tears or frustration. “I mean, that isn’t why I planned on coming here. Like I said, I have to know -

“Go home Liam,” Zayn says tiredly, turning around to unlock the door so he can finally go inside. The clothes sticking to his skin are heavy, dragging him down worse than the feeling in his chest is.

“No Zayn. I need to know why that would make you stop talking to me?” His voice cracks and Zayn hates it. It’s not fair. Liam doesn’t get to do this, doesn’t get to come back whenever he fucking chooses and then plead with Zayn to listen. “I really need you to talk to me.”

“No Liam,” Zayn repeats, pushing through the door. He knows Liam is going to follow, but he doesn’t care because if Liam insists on doing this, he doesn’t want to be doing it in the rain. He feels ridiculous - “Maybe consider the fact that every few weeks you want to remind me we aren’t together, how much you miss me since we broke up, yet disappear for another few weeks afterwards?” He shoves roughly at Liam’s chest when he tries to come closer, arms extending out like he might touch Zayn. Liam doesn’t even budge, which makes Zayn want to shove him harder just to get him to leave. “Do you think that’s easy to handle? We broke up because you didn’t want me to be upset but that is literally all you have done since then is upset me.

“So yeah, I stopped talking to you because you said you love me because it is really fucking difficult to understand how you can feel that way but not act it, at like all. Because I can’t, I can’t act any other way.”

He huffs out a harsh breath, adrenaline coursing through him, that frustrated feeling turning into anger. He is so fucking angry and Liam is just staring at him, face contorting into something that represents the pain Zayn has been feeling these past few months. Every inch of frustration he has felt over the last few months is rushing into him quickly, and he might explode on Liam if Liam keeps pushing it.

“Do you want to talk about _that_?” He finishes angrily.

Liam doesn’t hesitate, seemingly unaffected at the harshness directed towards him. “Yeah. I do, actually. I can’t read your mind Zayn. I thought you needed those moments as much as I did. I tried not to tell you those things and let you have your space, but it’s really hard. I know it’s my fault, but I’m mad as hell that we couldn’t figure out how to work it out.”

“That’s not my fault!” Zayn says, practically shouts. Tears choke him, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, willing them to go away.

“I know,” Liam shouts back, letting out a heavy breath. He is quieter when he adds, “Zayn, I know.”

“So what, what is the point of this Liam?” Zayn asks, gesturing between the two of them, both soaking wet and standing in the entrance way to his dorm building. “I don’t want to be reminded again. So if that is the only point of you being here, you might as well leave.””

He is starting to shiver from being wet and cold, and the exhaustion starting to settle in his bones as all of his frustration seeps out. He can feel the tears collecting at the top of his lip but he is too tired to care -

“I have been trying to get ahold of you because I need to know why you stopped talking to me and if it is because I said I love you then is it because you hate me, or is it because you love me too, because you are right, I didn’t realize how confusing that must be,” Liam says weakly and the desperate look on his face tears at Zayn’s chest. “But you are pretty confusing too Zayn, and I can’t figure out which one it is.”

“Why does it matter?” Zayn says tiredly. Liam is right – he knows that. He hasn’t reached out to Liam, but ignored him when Liam tried to, and he hasn’t told Liam how he feels either -

Liam reaches out to cup his jaw, and Zayn lets him, closing his eyes to keep back the tears pushing at his eyelids, insistent on chasing the ones that slip down his cheeks. “Because Zayn, if you love me, if I haven’t completely ruined this, then I can fix this. But if you hate me or are seeing someone else, or if I have completely ruined it, I’m not going to make it worse. I will figure out how to back off”

“Me telling you I love you isn’t going to change anything.” Zayn takes a step back, pulling away from him. It’s so much more than not communicating with each other, because even if they told each other how much they love each other - “If we can’t have this, you and me, when we are twenty minutes away from each other, what are we going to do when you get drafted into the fucking NFL? Stop seeing each other again?”

“Zayn, that’s what I’m trying to tell you-“

“Liam,” Zayn pleads. “I love you. I have loved you since August and it fucking hurts, is that what you want to know? That’s why I don’t get how you can act like you don’t, or don’t know that because there is not a moment with you that I don’t show it, even if I hadn’t said it. Why do you think I’m always there when you tell me you miss me after weeks of not being there? Because I am desperate for any moment with you.” Zayn pauses, throat closing when the confession passes his lips because he feels stupid, and his heartbreak sounds worse when spoken out loud. “I don’t hate you but I need you to leave me the fuck alone before I start to.”

Liam doesn’t back off despite that, and Zayn swears the corner of his lips quirk up so he walks off, but Liam is behind him, fingers grabbing his wrist before he can make it to the staircase. He would never ever want to hurt Liam, but right now he is considering punching Liam just so he will get that he is serious about him going away. “Zayn, what if I told you I can change this? Do you still want me to leave you alone? If I can fix it?”

Zayn drags a hand down his face, controlling his breathing. Liam is right in front of him, that desperate look back on his face like he needs Zayn to understand. But Zayn doesn’t.

He cups his cheeks, palms pressed against his warm, wet cheeks, thumbs sliding against the tremble of Liam’s bottom lip. “I want nothing more than for us to be able to work it out. But I am tired, and I really just need you to go.”

Liam nods, eyes closing as he leans his head into the palm of Zayn’s hand for only a moment before he steps back, fingers reaching out to press under Zayn’s chin before he leaves.

He drags himself back to his room, foregoing the shower he had been so excited for to strip off his wet layers and slip into a pair of joggers, sliding the Universal Studios hoodie over his head, trying to cling on to any part of Liam that is still comforting to him.

 It would be better if he had the stupid black and red plaid shirt he has no idea why he loves so much, but Liam never gave it back to him –

 

“Harry –“ Zayn interrupts, practically seethes because had told Harry, over and over, _don’t tell me about the draft._

“But Zayn,” Harry says, and there is humor in his voice that just adds to Zayn’s bad mood. Harry can’t seem to get it through his head that he does not want to hear about it. He has avoided everything possible to do with the damn draft, which is difficult since people are _still_ coming up to ask him about it, even though Zayn has snapped at more than a handful of people.

Everywhere he goes, Liam Payne. Both in Danforth and Bradford. He gets it, people are excited. But he wishes everyone would shut the fuck up about it.

“No Harry. I’m hanging up. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Dude, trust me. I am positive you want to hear this. As your best friend, I know –“

Zayn hangs up the phone and turns it off so Harry gets the hint. He does not want to know what team picks Liam, because then he will be forced to think about how far away Liam is going to be, and he has exams and his art show to be focusing on.

He pushes his school work off though, to visit Sophia, just to get his mind off the past week. He isn’t sure when she became the most comforting thing in his life. It is just so easy with her. They don’t talk much, and they sit outside, Sophia in a lawn chair and Zayn beside her, trying to sketch out the flowers blooming in her garden. She hums along to the music playing softly from her iPod and they just sit like that, until Doniya and Danielle come over and she is red faced and laughing, music discarded and Zayn’s drawing clutched in her hands on her lap.

**May**

Zayn has never been more nervous in his life. He hadn’t thought about what his family and Harry, or anyone else he knows personally that will be attending the art show would think about his piece. Only Higgins has seen the completed version, listened to his little speech, and for a brief moment he regrets even making it, wanting to hide it.

His feelings sketched out in dark graphite and colored pencils for the whole world to see.

There are a lot of people here, practically the whole school including the upperclassmen, all of the professors and the freshman class and their families. And he is first, right after the entrance, so he has to see everyone, and everyone has to see him and fuck, he is going to throw up.

“Oh sunshine,” Tricia says, tears already in her eyes as she walks up to him, family in tow behind her. She fixes the thin tie he wears before wrapping her arms around him, lips pecking against his cheek. “I am so proud of you. Look at you.”

“Thanks mom,” he says, holding onto her for a second longer to soak in that feeling of comfort.

She grabs his shoulders, giving him a once over. “That suit looks so nice on you.”

“Beta,” Yaser says, clapping his shoulder. Zayn goes in for a hug instead, his father smiling when he pulls away.

Zayn sees Professor Higgins excusing himself from a student behind them before coming up to them, turning to his parents.

 “You must be the Malik family. I am Paul Higgins, Zayn’s boss,” Professor Higgins introduces, holding out a hand for his mother. She flushes, shaking his hand. “A professor here as well, but I’ve yet to have Zayn in one of my classes.”

“Tricia Malik and this is my husband, Yaser. Zayn has told us about how much you’ve helped him this year.”

Higgins grins at him. “No help needed. This boy is a natural talent.” He claps Zayn on the shoulder. “But please excuse me, I have to make my rounds. I will be back in a jiff, Zayn. It was nice meeting you.”

 “He’s right,” Yaser says, hand finding the spot on Zayn’s shoulder where Paul’s had been. “This is nothing like those artworks you used to bring home from Miss Daisy’s class. You remember? Even at six, it was amazing though.”

Zayn’s nose wrinkles, cheeks warming at his father’s words. It is a parent’s duty to treat their five year old’s drawings like they are a national treasure. “Thanks, Baba.”

“It helps that Zayn had such a pretty model to draw,” Waliyha snickers, but her cheeks flush that same pink they use during the start of the summer whenever Liam came around.

“Yeah. Can you imagine if I tried drawing you?” He teases, sliding an arm around her to tug her close and press a sloppy kiss to her temple.

Once his family leaves, the nerves come back full force. He wishes Liam were here, fingers pressing under his chin, blanketing his back, or just those strong arms around him to comfort him. He had considered inviting him, wanted to so badly –

And he might have had Harry do some investigative work to see if Liam was even free for tonight. Which he isn’t. End of the year sports banquet, or something. He hadn’t asked Harry to go into too much detail.

Because it didn’t matter. He knows he wouldn’t have been able to muster the courage to actually invite Liam. And it would make him a hypocrite, after what he said last month about confusing signals -

“Hey dudey,” Harry grins, fingers sliding into his pockets. He snatches one of the cards from the stand beside the display, eyes flicking at Zayn’s drawing before looking back at the card. They are supposed to write about what inspired them, or something regarding their piece in general, for the professors. Zayn is embarrassed because he had gone a little overboard, but he is proud of his work so -

“Oh my god,” Harry says, looking at Zayn, eyes widening. He is not making fun of him, and he looks like he is going to cry so Zayn shoves him gently.

“Don’t Haz,” Zayn warns.

“I’m just saying, Zayn. You’re like a proper –“

“Don’t, Haz,” he says, firmer.

Harry grins, pocketing the card. “Don’t want to hold up anyone else from seeing this. I’m going to go walk around and pretend I know what I’m doing.”

Zayn wants to ask him to stay and hold up anyone else from seeing him, because there is a heavy crowd flowing in, and it is comforting to have someone he knows, that way he can pretend to be talking to them if he has to answer a question.

He pretends to be wiping something off of his hands so he can avoid looking directly at people, but he knows he will only be able to do it for so long -

“ _Liam’s Zayn.”_

Zayn jerks his head towards the sound of her voice. Sophia lipstick smile stretches into her cheeks. She is dressed up, wearing a dark blue dress, her hair pinned up into a neat bun.

Liam is behind her, a nervous grin on his own face. He is wearing that black button dress up suit again, quiff curling to the side. Zayn breathes in deep, just trying to fill his lungs some with air so maybe his head will stop feeling like it’s spinning -

“Um,” Liam says, shoulder shrugging in towards his chin shyly. “I hope it’s okay that we are here? Sophia loves your drawings, I figured she would want to see them.” He pauses, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “I wanted to see them.”

Zayn nods. “Y-yeah, s’fine.”

Zayn is going to find a secure place to hide where no one can ever find him, though, when Liam’s eyes flicker to the art, taking in the four drawings because they are so clearly Liam. There is no way that he wouldn’t be able to tell. He watches Liam’s face soften, the corner of his lips quirking up.

Zayn hands him a card, breathing in through his nose to calm the shaking in his fingers. If Liam is going to see this, at least he can know what it means to him. He had said Zayn is just as confusing as him with his feelings, and well, he has made it pretty clear in his work.

“It’s an um, like an explanation of the drawing?”

Liam takes it, but he slides it into his pocket without looking at it. “Could you tell me?” He jerks his head towards the board. There is a smile on his lips, but like Harry, Zayn doesn’t think it’s made to tease him.

Zayn nods, not sure of how he can get out of doing that, before turning so he can look at the board instead of Liam. He had scribbled out the description a few days ago, but it had been running through his head for a few weeks now that he knows most of it by heart, anyway.

He points to the first, top left corner. _Summer._ The ocean is thick lines of gray, the sand a light scratch of pencil. The only color is in the gold planes of Liam’s back, the red of his swim trunks, the dark brown moles that cover Liam’s skin.

His voice is shaky, but becomes bolder with each word. “When people think of summer, they think of the bright sun, the ocean, toes pressed into the hot sand. But um, I think of the way his skin takes hold of the sun, the taste of salt water on his lips, the warmth under his fingertips –

“And Fall,” he goes on, pointing to the drawing to the right.

The trees in the background are half bare, gray and black leaves coating the ground. Liam’s face is turned towards the left, reddened lips quirking into his cheeks, a coating of gold brown sprinkled across his chin, the birth mark on his neck standing out. He is in the football jersey, forest green and black stretching across his chest. One hand is secured in his pocket, the other reaching to fix the snapback on his head (which Zayn had done just so he could sketch the way Liam’s arms bulge out when he does that).

“We anticipate the cooler air, the way the green will turn into reds, golds, and browns. Those colors, so dull in comparison to the color of his lips after they press against mine. Or to the bronze of his skin, a little paler than it was in the summer, the gold, speckled in the brown of his eyes, standing out in his beard. His skin even warmer in the cooler air.”

Zayn clears his throat, not turning around to check to see if Liam is still behind him when he moves his finger to the image below summer. He is glad he decided to turn around, because it feels like there is a pressure squeezing him from all sides and it would be impossible to do this with those brown eyes on him.

Winter doesn’t look as colorless, with the snow coating the trees and the ground. Liam is colored again though, pale ochre skin standing out against the white of his puffy winter coat, green gloved hands folded together around a ball of snow. He faces the left, eyes clenched shut, body curving back like he can’t handle the laugh.

“Winter is reddened cheeks, giggling with my sister and exploring the taste of hot chocolate on his tongue, warming his cold skin with my own. I never understood what people saw in winter or why everyone seemed to love it so much, but I realized I hadn’t been looking properly.”

He hesitates, sliding his finger to the last. It had been the hardest to draw, the hardest idea to come up with because his moments with Liam in spring were very few. He hadn’t done a good job at making the clothes stick to Liam’s skin, he had tried over and over again to perfect the way the blue material clung to the muscles carved across his abdomen.  

“Spring is harder to describe. It tries too hard to become part of summer, but the winter clings onto it you know? And the worst is the rain, god I hate the storms, but I like the way it smells, the way it makes skin feel so soft, the way it looks when it’s clinging to his eyelashes. I think him and I aren’t defined well, because I have been trying so hard to run away, but he clung to me. And as much as I hated it, all of the good pieces seemed to outweigh the fact that I hated the rain.”

Zayn finally turns, to look at Liam and he startles, seeing that it is not just Liam and Sophia, but there is a small crowd behind him. But like he was trying to show in his drawing, he really can’t look at anything other than Liam.

“So like,” he says, ignoring the watery sound of his voice. Liam gives him a soft smile of encouragement. “Basically, there are a lot of beautiful things out there.” He pauses, knowing how much better this sounds on paper. It sounds so stupid to him, and if Liam and him were on good terms he knows Liam would be teasing him endlessly, which makes him grin. “But you make it hard for me to notice any of it.”

He hears the distinct sound of Harry snorting, and when he glances over he is rubbing at his eyes, grinning at Zayn. Liam is just looking at him, and he can’t gauge anything from his expression.

“Beautiful,” Sophia says. “Zayn is beautiful.”

That seems to break the hold Liam has on him, and Liam glances down at Sophia, patting her shoulder. “Yeah, he is.”

The crowd dwindles some, each person telling Zayn how nice his little speech was, before going onto the next. New people keep coming, and he hopes no one else asks him to say it out loud again because he thinks he might actually cry, or explode, or both this time. Liam is still there, just looking at him, like maybe his tunnel vision problem is just as bad as his.

“Did you mean that?” Liam says after a minute, head cocking to the side. Zayn hesitates, teeth digging into his bottom lip. There is no point in lying so he nods.  

And Liam just _looks_ at him. Zayn isn’t expecting him to say anything, but he feels stuck in Liam’s gaze and it is driving him crazy. Smile, frown, or something –

“Liam’s Zayn?”

Zayn kneels in front of Sophia, thankful for a reason to look away from Liam and catch his breath. It is different than when they were in the entrance of his dorm building, Zayn angrily telling him that he loved Liam. This is different, intimate, more honest -

“Do you like it?”

She nods. Her voice falls into a whisper, and it is a little hard to hear. “You love Liam?”

Zayn nods, whispering back. “Yeah.”

“Me too,” she laughs, eyes crinkling.

“I like your dress. Did Liam take you to the sports banquet?”

She nods again. “It was fun.”

“No it wasn’t,” Liam interrupts, a soft smile directed at the two of them. “We had somewhere else important to be.”

“For Zayn,” Sophia adds seriously.

Zayn tickles underneath Sophia’s chin before standing. It’s awkward a bit, but not bad. The feeling spreading across his chest hurts, but not _bad._

“Um, thank you for coming. And for bringing Sophia,” he says quietly, pressing his own fingers under his chin. He hopes Liam doesn’t realize that he does it while pretending their Liam’s fingers.

Liam reaches out, pushing away Zayn’s fingers and replacing them with his own. Zayn bites his tongue to hold in the tremble running through him from Liam’s touch. “I said I couldn’t fix it but it took me some time to figure out that I hadn’t really been trying to, but I can. And I know you have reason not to believe me, and I want you to take your time, but one day I hope you let me.”

He says it so softly, head tilted and gazing at Zayn like he really needs to understand what he is saying though, that Zayn can’t do anything but nod, even though he isn’t entirely sure what Liam means.

Liam nods back, hand falling away from Zayn to return to the handles of Sophia’s wheelchair. He just smiles before he pushes her off, Sophia’s hand going up in a wave.

He forgets Harry is there until he is closing in on him, arms flying around his shoulders. “I don’t care if you take the last name Payne, you guys just better fucking get back together and then get married and I don’t even care if you guys are gross in front of me all the time.”

Zayn snorts, squeezing Harry tightly back before shoving him off. “I have to look professional,” he says, voice watery.

He wins a grant, for six thousand dollars for the next school year. Higgins just grins at him when he hands him the award, in front of the audience in the back of the studio where they had gathered after the viewing had ended.

“I swear I had nothing to do with this,” Higgins says in his ear when he claps him on the back, tugging him close. “So don’t even try to discredit yourself like you do sometimes.”

Zayn nods with a smile. “I’ll try.”

Louis also wins a grant, for forty five hundred, and he is ecstatic, jumping on Zayn after he gets his award and finds him at the end of the stage. They give out fifteen all together to a quarter of the freshman class.

“You are a cheater,” Louis whispers, a teasing grin on his face. “Not only is your model the most likeable guy on the planet, who everyone knows, you had to pull the love card and make it all sappy. I think there was an old lady crying, you dick. You made a grandma cry.”

Zayn grins, eyes finding Liam in the crowd. He is still with Sophia, but Niall has joined them, wearing a navy blue suit with a thin tie but a bright green snapback hiding his blond hair. Andy and Doniya are there too, both equally as dressed up. They had arrived late, but before the viewing had ended. Harry had told him he made Niall take someone else to the banquet so he wouldn’t miss a moment here, and Zayn loves him for it.

_“You make Liam look attractive,” Niall had said, grinning. “Might have to take a go, dude. No offense.”_

When Professor Higgins closes the event, he leaves the stage, finding his family in the crowd.

“Come on beta, your mother is insisting on me taking you all out to eat,” Yaser says with a grin, tugging Zayn forward into the small crowd of them. He indicates his family, Harry, Niall and Andy. Liam is a few feet back, a phone held between his shoulder and ear as he says something to Sophia.

“Can Louis come?” Zayn asks, fingers wrapping around Louis’ wrist to tug him forward. Louis had told him earlier that none of his family could make it, and even though he had laughed it off, Zayn was sure it still bothered him.

“Of course.”

“Friend or –“ Andy starts, eyes narrowing. Doniya hits him hard in the chest.

“Friend. Louis Tomlinson,” Louis says, holding his hand out to Zayn’s mother instead of Andy.

Zayn inches away. For a moment he tells himself not to, but he does it anyway, letting his hands slide across the cotton covering Liam’s lower back. The phone is now in Liam’s hand, and he slides it into his pants pocket. He still looks hesitant when his eyes find Zayn, and Zayn drops his hand away.

“Um, my parents are taking us all out to eat. Like, Andy and Niall too. So um, if you want, you can come to? I mean, you’re invited too. I’d like you to come um, if you want.” _Shut up, shut up_.

The smile reaches Liam’s eyes, but he looks regretful. “I have to take Sophia home. Um, but can we get together soon?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, uh sure. I have um, exams for the next week but I’m done on the ninth.”

Liam nods, grinning. He reaches out, tickling his fingers under Zayn’s chin. “I really look forward to it.”

 

Exams are hell, absolutely awful and Zayn doesn’t know why he thought it would be a good idea to wait until after the art show to really start studying for them. He is counting on definitions being worth more than essays, because when it comes to studying, note cards are his go to. (And he knows there is no chance that that will happen, but he refuses to be anything other than hopeful.)

Relief floods through him when he finishes with his last one, and he drags himself back to his dorm to finish packing so he can just sleep until he has to move out the next day. He hasn’t heard from Liam about meeting up, but he knows Liam is going through exams as well.  And probably stuff for the draft too, so he isn’t bummed or anything, and maybe that is a good sign.

Maybe he is moving on.

Two of his suitemates left already for the summer, and the other has all of his things stacked in the living room, and Zayn hopes he isn’t actually somewhere in there among the boxes, because it is hard just to maneuver through them so he can get to the bedrooms. He calls for him, hearing no response, so he assumes he isn’t here.

“Hey.”

Zayn stills. Liam is lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t bother to ask how he had gotten in. There is a swoop in his lungs, and his sharp breath sounds loud, ricocheting through the loud room.

Liam pushes up into a sitting position, possibly waiting for Zayn to say something but he hadn’t been the one to show up unannounced so Zayn waits, heading over to the box on his desk, waiting to be packed.

And to hide the shake in his fingers, and the way his face floods red.  He is crazy, thinking maybe he is moving on. He could be married with children and still be _Liam’s Zayn_ , still get that urge in his fingertips to touch the other man, or hide himself against his chest.

“I got a job,” Liam says after a moment. “A really, really good job.”

Zayn stiffens. “Yeah? Which team?”

“Danforth Ducks.”

He pauses his movements. There is no pro team called the Danforth Ducks. There is no anything Ducks in the NFL, he is pretty sure.

“Coach Jarvis retired.” Zayn turns, finding Liam now standing, a grin on his face. “Wanted to go out with a bang, and I guess four consecutive championship titles is the bang he was looking for. And you know, half of the boys who did that are graduating this year.”

Zayn doesn’t understand the genuine look of happiness on Liam’s face. “But, the draft –“

“Turned it down after Jarvis told me he was retiring.” Liam hesitates, a hand cupping the back of his neck before he moves forward. “And after I saw you in April. I knew I made the right decision when I came to your show. I needed to know how you felt -”

Zayn looks at him like he is crazy, he is just like, confused. “But Liam. I don’t. You turned down the chance to go _pro_.”

Liam cups a hand on either side of Zayn’s face. “I told you I never planned on going pro. And I never planned on you either, but I’m okay with not going pro. I’m not okay without you.”

His eyes water, but he still smiles. “I told you I couldn’t fix the bad when we broke up. And I’m asking, _begging_ you to let me fix it now.” He gnaws on his bottom lip. Zayn is just still beneath him, trying to keep himself together because for some reason he can’t wrap his mind around anything. “I thought I was doing that before but I had just been mucking it up worse. I just couldn’t stand that I made such a mistake, but then I thought maybe I actually couldn’t fix it, and sending you mixed signals was making you hate me.”

“Couldn’t hate you,” Zayn says weakly, leaning into the warmth of Liam’s hand.

“I know. I got that now,” Liam mutters. “Just like I know I can fix this. Taking this job is the first step. I’m not asking you to trust me right now, and tell me if you need to take your time, I just need to know that you will let me try. Now or any day, at your pace – I just need to know.”

“Liam,” Zayn says firmly, almost pulling away but he is too needy for Liam’s touch. “Don’t stop yourself from doing something you want to do because of me.”

“I’m not,” Liam insists, thumb reaching out to press against Zayn’s bottom lip. “I’m still doing football. I’ll be a little busy during football season, but not as busy as before. Especially without classes on top of that. And I’ll be near Sophia still. And you.”

Zayn nods, warmth spreading across his chest. He can see Liam is serious, and he doesn’t want to believe him, because if it ends up the same way he could possibly hate Liam, or himself for it. “When do you start?”

“August, officially, when the season starts. I’ll be driving up here sometimes over the summer to go over stuff with Jarvis, but he is staying, unpaid, to help me through my first year until I get a better feel for it.”

Zayn slides his hands, which had been hanging by his sides, up Liam’s chest, to cup around the back of his neck. “So you’ll be in Bradford in the summer?”

Liam grins, eyes bright when he nods.

“So for most of the summer you’ll be mine?”

He nods again, any of the hesitation left in his face slipping away. “Zayn, I’m saying I’m making sure that I’m yours for every part of the year.”

“For as many years as I want?” Zayn’s voice is small, and he feels childish again. Foolish, in love –

“It might not seem like it, but I had been trying to do what would be best for you. I get now that it is up to you to decide that and um, well, you can have me for as many years as you want me.”

Zayn closes his eyes, trying to swallow the knot in his throat, budge back the tears in his eyes. There is a gentle pressure against his lips that makes him open them for a moment, seeing Liam’s long lashes fluttering shut.

Liam’s lips are only against his for a moment, gone too soon that Zayn is pressing into the back of his neck, pulling him back. “Just kiss me for a little longer,” he mutters.

“If that’s what you want,” Liam chuckles under his breath before complying.

Liam kisses him soft and hesitant, letting Zayn guide him, letting him pull away when he is ready to. When Zayn pulls away he presses their foreheads together, eyes closing and clinging to Liam because he just needs to ease the erratic beating of his heart, to clear his mind so he can sort his thoughts properly.

“I like the blond by the way,” Liam murmurs after a moment, pressing his smile to Zayn’s forehead.

“Quarter life crisis,” Zayn whispers.

“What?”

“Nothing. Something Harry said,” he responds distractedly, pulling back to look at Liam.

Maybe Liam has always acted the way he feels, just in subtler ways. Maybe he shows it in the way his eyes brighten whenever they look at him, or the soft smile that Zayn wants to think is just for him, his _Zayn smile_. Those gentle touches under the chin, or when he presses his lips to any part of Zayn’s skin just _because._

Or maybe it is in the way Liam is so gentle and kind to his sister, or reaches out for Zayn whenever he needs comfort, and his insistence on Zayn wearing his clothes -

“What is it?” Liam murmurs, tilting his head. Zayn pushes himself onto the desk, pulling Liam between his legs to keep him close. Liam plants his hands on the desk either side of Zayn, pecking his lips before he is pulling back with the same worried look.

“It’s not just you that has to fix it,” Zayn tells him. “I didn’t try to work on it either.”

Zayn presses a finger under Liam’s chin, tilting his head upwards. “I’ve been so frustrated because most of the time I just wanted to be with you and I didn’t consider that I could if I just tried to be. I just accepted that you were busy, and that was that in my head.”

“Me too,” Liam admits. “But I can’t accept that as that anymore.”

Zayn nods, leaning forward to brush his lips against Liam’s. He has missed those full, ruddy pink lips and if Liam lets him, he isn’t ever going to stop kissing them he thinks.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he mumbles when he pulls back. Liam’s eyes stay closed for a moment before they flutter open and he nods.

“I’ve kind of had a crush on you since like, forever.”

Liam huffs out a laugh, the tension releasing from his body. “Is that why you made that super romantic drawing of me? Poem and all?”

Zayn shoves him roughly with a groan when he sees the amusement in his eyes, but Liam clings to him with arms around his upper back, laughing against his temple.

 

During move out day, Liam insists on piling the back of his truck up with Zayn’s things and driving him to Bradford. Zayn tries to pretend not to notice the way Liam has the drawing he hid in the glove compartment back in January propped underneath his stereo, but he fails and Liam flushes a deep red when he catches Zayn looking at it.

He is hesitant when he invites Zayn to stay with him at his apartment for the next few days until graduation, like he doesn’t want to push Zayn into moving too fast, but Zayn has missed Liam so much he doesn’t think he cares.

He just needs the way Liam’s strong arms wrap around him at night, his lips always soft against his skin, hushed _I love yous_ against his shoulders and pressed to his hairline. Liam’s touches are never heated, just there, and Zayn doesn’t mind that they don’t have sex, because he is content with soaking in Liam’s warmth and his cologne and everything he has missed about just being next to Liam.

The sun is bright during graduation, warm on Zayn’s cheeks as he has to squint to see the stage from where they are standing. Sophia had insisted on sitting between him and Danielle, and her fingers against his own as she watches on, wearing the aviators he had brought with him.

Zayn isn’t louder than the wolf whistles that erupt through the audience when Liam’s name is called, but he tries, squeezing Sophia’s fingers as she cheers along. Liam’s smile is bright, eyes clenching shut in what looks like a groan. Zayn isn’t sure what he sees in the audience, but Harry whispers from behind him, ‘ _Niall said he was going to try and embarrass Liam on stage. I think he is going to pull his dick out_.’

He seems like the ceremony takes forever to get to the last of the _Z_ s, and drags on as the President of the school says a last few words. When the graduates are finally leaking into the crowd of friends and family, it feels like forever until those arms are wrapping around him and he is sinking into the black gown.

“Congratulations,” Zayn whispers under the noise from the crowd around them.

“Heads up,” Niall says, coming up from behind Liam before Liam can respond. “That dick is over there.

Liam looks behind Zayn, a look of dread coming onto his face. “A reporter,” he explains. “He has been trying to get ahold of me for like a week now. I think he took the job to film the graduation ceremony just to trap me.”

“Tell him to fuck off,” Zayn says, looking behind him at the man shoving through the crowd with an eager look on his face. Zayn had seen him earlier, filming the graduates as they filed into their assigned seats.

“Mr. Payne, excuse me.”

Zayn turns around, curling into Liam’s side when he keeps an arm around his shoulder, loose enough that Zayn can pull away if he wants to. He doesn’t.

“Can I have a moment of your time?” The guy is beaming, a small microphone in his hand as he edges it closer to Liam, practically bouncing on his toes.

“Um, a quick moment,” Liam says politely, even though he looks incredibly uncomfortable, cheeks already starting to flush. This guy has some nerve – Liam literally just graduated.

The reporter ushers his camera man over, who has to push through Andy and Doniya to get to them. He should probably go congratulate his sister, but he knows she will understand.

“Word has it that you are going to be starting the next football season as the new head coach for the Danforth Ducks. There’s been a lot of disappointment going around after the news about -“

Zayn feels the way Liam tenses before he interrupts, still managing to be polite because he’s Liam. “I am. And that’s really all I’m going to say. If you’ll excuse me. I’m pretty sure my mom will have my head on a platter if I don’t hurry it up and find her.”

Liam is guiding him away before the reporter can get another word out, and he calls after them as they move quickly to where Liam’s parents are sitting.

“That’s going to be annoying,” Liam says. He stops them before he gets to his parents, leaning down to peck his lips. “Come back to mine after dinner if you want, so we can go to the barbeque together tomorrow?”

Zayn nods. “Of course.”

“Have fun with your family,” Liam says again, pressing their lips together once more. Zayn cups the back of his head, a grin on his lips.

“I’ll try, but I’ll miss you too much, Liam.”

His parents made reservations at the most expensive restaurant in town, and it is crowded full of graduates and their families. They merge their table with Niall’s family and when Liam and his family join, they get a table on the other side of them and Zayn sneaks over with an excuse to say hello to Sophia.

 

It is quiet. Only the distant sounds of the city can be heard if you strain your ears hard enough. And it is dark, surprisingly so. Zayn didn’t think they ever turned off the arena lights, but apparently they do, and the only source of light comes from the lamp posts in the parking lot, a dull glow a distances away.

The air is cooler, now that the sun has gone down. Zayn can still feel the traces of the sun against his skin, stinging where the skin had been the most exposed. The back of his neck, the tip of his nose, the curve of his shoulders.

Even though the barbeque had been for Liam, to celebrate his new job, Liam had insisted on taking over the grill and Zayn had insisted on being near him, forgetting about the sun lotion in his bag under the gazebo. It hadn’t really been hot outside. Summer still a few weeks away.

“This is kind of cool,” Zayn says, spreading his fingers across the turf to catch on Liam’s. The ground is harder than he anticipated, and he has no idea why or how he let Liam convince him to do this. The plan was to go back home to Bradford after the barbeque for the summer vacation, but Liam drove them here instead, sitting quietly in his truck for what seemed like forever before he got the idea to come onto the field.

“Hm?” Liam hums, linking their fingers together.

Zayn rolls to his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at him. Liam’s fingers catch on his shirt, pressing into his back to move him closer. “This is kind of like, all yours dude. Your football stadium.”

Liam snorts, eyes crinkling at the corners as he chuckles. “Not really. It is the Danforth Ducks’. We are a team.”

Zayn tries not to roll his eyes and he hopes the dark hides the fact that he fails. “But, as head coach, Mr. Payne, it is a little bit more yours.”

“Yeah I know,” Liam chuckles. “It’s pretty fucking cool.”

Zayn ducks his head down, kissing Liam softly. “What benefits do I get from dating the coach?”

They haven’t really discussed what they are yet, but Zayn doesn’t think they really need to. Like Harry said, they just are. Liam’s Zayn, Zayn’s Liam.

Liam tugs him until he is resting on top of him, knees digging into the turf on either side of his hips. “Well first, dating the coach should be benefit enough,” he scolds, fingers sliding absentmindedly at the skin of Zayn’s lower back.  “But you can get free admission to the games, I’ll pay for your concession stands foods, um, and well –“

He rolls them without warning, careful when he presses Zayn’s spine against the hard turf. Zayn can just make out the playful grin on his lips when he looks down at him. “You get to help me on the field, you know, practice some plays -.”

Zayn can’t keep the fond of his face even if he tried. It never ceases to amaze him how Liam can be so adorable while making arousal twist under Zayn’s navel at the same time. “Yeah? What’s that one – the man to man –“

Liam snorts, shaking his head fondly before he leans forward, lips pressing against Zayn’s until they part. Zayn chuckles into it, getting the hint as he cups the back of Liam’s neck to deepen the kiss.

A needy groan rumbles in Liam’s throat when he pulls away, teeth snatching at bottom lip as he looks down at Zayn. Zayn lets out a harsh breath, nodding and Liam pulls away, nudging his chin to tilt his head back so he can latch his lips at the soft spot under Zayn’s jaw.

“I can’t keep up with your kinks, Coach Payne.” Zayn laughs breathlessly, fingers sliding through the thick of Liam’s hair. Liam’s laugh tickles his skin, his fingers pushing up the black and red plaid that covers Zayn’s abdomen.

“You’re my kink, babes,” Liam chuckles, grinding his hips down against Zayn as if to emphasize.

Zayn snorts. His ‘ _romantic_ ’ comment gets lost in a groan as Liam sucks harshly at his skin, the soft of his palm sliding up to cup his jaw and tilt his head as far back as it can go. Liam has been so hesitant in touching him, and Zayn has needed him to relax, to touch him the way he needs to, the way he wants to, the way he _used_ to.

He rolls his hips upwards as Liam’s tongue rolls over the base of his throat, sucking sweetly at the skin stretched across his Adam’s apple. The sound Liam makes is rough and needy before he gets the hint and moves his hips with Zayn’s.

There are too many clothes between them, too much empty space around them. They are in the middle of the damn football field, but he doesn’t mind because Liam is crowding on top of him, making soft noises and kissing every inch of his skin like he just _has_ to before they do anything else.

“This is new,” Liam murmurs curiously before ducking his head down and nipping at the heart shaped ink on his hip. The black and red plaid shirt is suddenly too hot and he pushes up to slip it past his shoulders, wanting the cool night air to dry the sweat starting to cling to his skin.

“Liam,” Zayn groans, nudging his hips upwards. Liam moans, teeth digging into ink stained skin. “Need you to touch me, or something –“

Liam cups him through his jeans, squeezing him gently but then he is pressing up on his arms, crawling back up Zayn’s body.

“Come on,” he murmurs, rolling off of him. Zayn lies there, breathing heavy before he takes the hand Liam holds out for him. “I want to do this at home actually. Maybe we can pick up here another day.”

Zayn doesn’t return the teasing smile. His cock throbs, twitching under his briefs and Liam’s a jerk. As much as he has enjoyed the innocent touches, he has really missed the not so innocent touches, too.

“I fell in love with a tease,” he complains, cupping himself. Maybe he can get away with getting off while Liam drives, but a distracted Liam might not be the best idea while operating that monster –

“What?” Liam says, closing in on him so they are chest to chest. His grin is bright when he presses quick kisses to Zayn’s mouth while Zayn reminds still, confused. “You said you were in love with me.”

Zayn’s cheeks burn, teeth digging into his bottom lip. He thought he made that clear, already.

“No takesy-backsy,” Liam goes on, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Warmth spreads through Zayn, tugging at his chest and he nods, biting around the smile he hasn’t been able to keep off his face since Liam told him about his new job. “Same goes for you.”

**Two Years Later**

“This is serious Zayn, so would you stop laughing at me?” Harry crosses his arms, pouting at him.

Zayn can’t help it though. He halts his movements with the paintbrush to laugh, using his other arm to clutch at his abdomen. Sometimes, even though they have been friends for so long, he still forgets how dramatic he can be.

“You’re a dick,” Harry says, but the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says, sighing out the rest of his laughter. “I just mean, you do realize what you just said? You don’t think you and Niall can do commitment?”

The ghost of a smile disappears quickly, and he glares at Zayn, and it’s almost a bit frightening. “Why is that so funny?”

“Dude, you’ve been Harry and Niall exclusively for like, two years and that is only with a label. How long has it been all together? Like four? Five?”

He sighs, fingers worrying at his hairline like when his hair used to be a fringe, and was too short to be pulled into a knot at the back of his head like it is now. “But I mean, if I move with him then what? We either break up or get married?”

“Or not?” Zayn offers easily, turning back to his canvas. It is more of a mess than Harry, really. The lines are shaky, too uneven and he wants to start all over again but he promised himself he would get it done by Monday before they visit Sophia. “You don’t have to get married to live with someone.”

But Harry doesn’t hear him, still going on and on about ‘And what if he asks me to marry him? What am I supposed to do? You do realize that my options are Niall Styles and Harry Horan? Those are awful –“

“I’m sorry Haz,” Zayn interrupts, eyes finding the clock on the other side of the studio. He swears Harry has only been here like thirty minutes, but it is going on over an hour. “Fuck, I gotta go. We will continue this conversation tomorrow, yeah? And I promise I will take it serious.”

Harry looks at him like he highly doubts this.

Zayn locks up the art studio, jogging to his car, a piece of crap he bought used for barely anything – even though Liam insisted on ‘loaning’ him the money to get something nicer. And knowing Liam, Zayn would probably have to install a ladder on the side just to get into it. He can deal with the weird transformer noises it makes sometimes.

Harry ruffles his hair before getting into his own car, wishing him good luck tonight.

He doesn’t need luck, because he isn’t doing anything more than just _being_ there. But he hates these events, wearing the stuffy suits and also that smile that he tries his hardest to make look warm and genuine, but somehow always manages to look as uncomfortable as he feels.

But Liam wants him there, and Liam looks really fucking good in a suit so Zayn doesn’t actually mind too much. He gets to see that smile, that _Coach_ smile Liam gets at these things, when he talks about how well his boys did that season, and how proud of them he is.

Zayn heads through the apartment, the door unlocked, knowing where Liam is. He can hear the dulled sound of that old RnB music playing softly through the apartment.

Andy had moved out the summer before with Doniya, and they never seemed to find a new roommate. At least, not one for his old room. Somehow, more of Zayn’s things have ended up here than his and Louis’ dorm, because he tends to spend most of his time here since Louis is never around and the dorm is too quiet without him. Even when Liam is not around, Zayn still makes himself at home. He is pretty sure he occupies the apartment more so than Niall and Liam combined, actually.

The sound of music leads him to the bathroom, where Liam stands in front of the mirror, fingers working on the thin tie he secures around his collar. The white dress shirt looks nice stretched across his back, snug on his hips.

“Hey babes, I’m sorry,” Zayn says, quickly changing out of his clothes to hop into the shower besides Liam. “I’ve been trying to work on the piece, you know the one for Sophia, and Harry distracted me with his Niall talk.”

Liam hums. “Stressed about Niall accepting that job?”

“Yeah. He thinks if he goes with Niall that means they are going to get married,” Zayn says, trying to keep the humor out of his voice as he quickly washes the grime from the day off his skin. There are dots of color stained around his fingers and across the back of his hands, and he scrubs at them but they don’t even fade a little bit. He hates paint.

“They probably are going to get married,” Liam adds with a fond laugh. “It just might take Niall like ten years to get Harry to agree -” His voice fades, and Zayn can no longer see the outline of him through the sliding door.

Liam’s cologne fills the bathroom, mixing in with the steam from the shower when Zayn hops out and Liam is leaning against the door frame, the hanger with his clothes on it his hands.

“Can you imagine?” Liam says, nose wrinkling as he hangs the clothes on the back of the bathroom door. “Niall Styles.”

Liam’s laughter gets caught between his lips and where he presses them to Zayn’s forehead, fingers reaching up to catch on Zayn’s jaw.

Zayn grins. “Harry was worried about that too.”

Liam’s eyes are bright when he pulls back. “Missed you,” he says quietly before pressing another kiss to his lips. “Should probably let you get dressed though. Can’t be late. I’m the coach, or whatever.”

Zayn looks pretty good dressed up too, he thinks. He rolls the floral printed sleeves to his elbows, fastening the fitted black vest over it. He is passing on an actual suit, because it is warm and he always sweats too much at these things. The floral printed dress shirt is thin, cool against his skin for now.

He admires the ink covering his arms, a collection of pieces he has gotten over the past two years, because he has inability to save money and that’s why he had been forced to buy a shitty car.

The small sun and palm tree on the inside of his arm is his favorite though, because even though he hasn’t ever seen a palm tree, he has managed to capture summer on his skin. He likes the blocky 23 inked above the back of his wrist too, and maybe his sleeve is more of a collection of little pieces of Liam than anything.

Liam groans when he comes back into the room, and Zayn looks at him through the mirror, eyes closed, head tilted back with his fists clenching. “We can’t go.”

“What?” Zayn says, alarmed

Liam pouts as he comes closer, the palm of his hand sliding under the palm of Zayn’s butt to squeeze him a little. “Your ass looks good in those pants.”

Zayn shakes his head, continuing to drag some gel through his hair. He is thinking about growing it longer, maybe. Just to see how it looks mostly and because Liam’s newest kink seems to be sliding his fingers through it, tugging it almost roughly whenever he slides down Zayn’s throat.

Zayn tilts his head to let Liam press his grin against the curve of his neck for a brief moment. His cheeks are flushed like he is nervous, though Zayn doesn’t understand why because he always does so well at these things.

Unlike Zayn, who choked while presenting at the art show the night before, even though it had been his third time presenting his work at an art show. He nearly ran to hide behind Paul until Liam planted himself and Sophia by Zayn’s display and remained there for the rest of the show.

Liam just gets when he needs him, Zayn never has to ask.

“You know my boys already ask about you too often for my comfort,” Liam mutters, still grinning as his lips move up his neck. Liam is such a pain in the ass because he is trying to do his hair so they aren’t late to _Liam’s_ event, but he is always so distracting. Zayn is kind of in love with it.

 

It’s a fancy venue, with a guy who takes their coats, and helps them find their table at the front of the room, right before the stage – he even bows before he leaves, and calls them sir and Zayn has to remind himself that he is actually adult enough to be called sir. Maybe.

The table cloth is forest green, with expensive looking plates and silverware arranged on top. There is a little card on Zayn’s plate, _Mr. Zayn Malik_.

“Would you look at that,” Liam hums, tilting the card slightly to look at it.

Zayn watches his features soften, that football smile on his face as he reads _Coach Liam Payne_. His cheeks are warm where Zayn rubs a thumb across them, giving Liam a look that tells him he understands.

It had been frustrating, how harsh people had been to Liam after he announced that he would be taking over Jarvis’ position as coach for the Danforth Ducks. Ungrateful, a waste of talent  - it had been whispered around for months.

Until Liam and the boys brought home the championship title that year and suddenly no one remembers ever having said a bad word.

Ollie slides behind the podium as the serves come out. The boys have come up to the table one by one to greet Liam and the assistant coaches when they arrived, so it took a while and Zayn is starving.

“Excuse me,” Ollie says into the mic. He grins. He has always been a bit cockier about his captain position than Liam had been, but Liam always shrugs it off with a _he has a reason to be_. “I just wanted to take a moment to thank you guys for a wonderful year, a wonderful four years.” The clapping and hooting drowns him out for a moment and Liam’s fingers slide under the table to link with Zayn’s, a smile stretching across his face.

Ollie holds a hand in Liam’s direction. “And thank you to Coach Liam, Captain Payno, for bringing me to the state conference four years in a row.”

Liam grows considerably red, a modest smile taking over his face as he squeezes Zayn’s fingers as the boys clap again. Stan, sitting at the table behind them, reaches back and claps Liam on the shoulder.

Zayn finds himself cheering along as Liam takes his turn behind the podium, talking with his hands like he does to hype up the crowd. He is a goof and terribly attractive, and maybe Zayn is cheering more about that then the fact that Liam is going on about their last two championship wins.

A few hours later he is able to finally slip outside for a smoke, Liam excusing himself politely from some man he had been talking to about something Zayn hadn’t really been paying attention to but something about sponsorships and division one –

“You’ve got paint on your face,” Liam tells him, thumb sliding against his jaw. He scratches a nail against it, laughing softly. “Didn’t want to tell you. Thought it was cute.”

Zayn crinkles his nose. “Painting is hard,” he defends, bringing the butt of the cigarette to his lips. He cups his hand around the flame, the wind a soft breeze against his skin.

“Well, I’m no art major. But unless you’re the canvas-“

“Shut up,” Zayn laughs, moving away to lean against the balcony that overlooks parts of Danforth. It is a really nice venue, actually, and the city looks amazing from underneath them. He doesn’t explore much other than pieces between Danforth and Everton, even though he has been here for three years now.

“I can’t wait to get home,” Liam sighs, loosening his tie some as he leans with his back against the rail beside him. 

Zayn inhales the sharp fresh air of the night before he inhales from his cigarette, nodding in response. “Me either.”

“You know, speaking of -” Liam grins, tucking a finger under Zayn’s chin. His teeth grip at his lower lip, a sparkle in his eye that Zayn swears isn’t just from the city lights around them. “When Niall accepts that job, he’s going to be moving out.”

“I know.” It’s all Harry’s been able to talk about since Niall had told him. It’s not far, just over the state border, about thirty minutes away. He knows Harry is going to end up going with Niall, transferring to a better school over there, because he accidentally saw Harry’s acceptance letters.

“Well, you know, I was thinking after he leaves, I should probably get a smaller apartment,” Liam goes on. He cups the back of his neck, and Zayn doesn’t miss the way the stain of red highlights the round of his cheeks.

“You can afford that place without them babe,” Zayn says, reaching out to play with Liam’s tie. Liam always looks so good in a suit. Zayn knows he was born to do football, but maybe he was born to be a model too.

Liam chuckles, shaking his head and Zayn tilts his curiously, wondering why that shy look is creeping across his features. “I know, but it’s a big apartment. It’s going to feel pretty empty.” He trails off, looking at Zayn.

The live music and chatter from the people can be heard from the balcony, but suddenly it feels quiet as Liam keeps looking at him, words at the tip of his tongue and Zayn kind of needs him to hurry it up and get them out. “So I’m thinking like, less bedrooms, one or maybe two at the most. But like, definitely at least one room, for two people.”

Zayn huffs out a laugh around the butt of his cigarette before stubbing it out, because the smoke is makes the feeling that seeps across his chest burn. “Is this your way of asking me to get an apartment with you?”

Liam flushes, embarrassment coating his grin. “Kind of, yeah. I figured, you know, you can save money by not living on campus and like-“

Zayn tugs his tie to pull him closer, shaking his head fondly before he presses his lips to Liam’s to shut him up.

“You just stood in front of all those people, spoke for like ten minutes with your shoulders back and confidence literally flowing out of you and now you look like you’re shitting your pants, dude” he jokes fondly.

Liam curls his arms around Zayn’s lower back, lips pushing out into a pout that tries to fight off a grin but fails. “I might if you don’t answer.”

It’s an easy answer, really. It had been rough that first year, but they have been good since. There have been small problems here and there, but nothing that has ever lasted a few hours at most. Nothing out of the ordinary, he thinks. Nothing that even comes close to outweighing the good -

“Of course I will,” Zayn whispers to him, placing the palm of his hands on Liam’s chest. “That will feed perfectly into my clinginess problem.”

A smile breaks out across Liam’s face, a breath of relief passing those ruddy colored lips. “I told you I liked it.”

Zayn hums, resting his cheek against Liam’s chest, listening to the steady pace of his heart. His mother used to tease him, about how Liam and he were so cute during their ‘honeymoon’ phase, shy laughter, flushed cheeks and an inability to stop touching each other. A _need_ to keep touching each other. He is not really sure when that’s supposed to end, but he feels like it it’s never going to. He still feels that giddiness around Liam like he is fourteen and this is just a crush, and the warmth in his chest like when he was eighteen and it was more like falling in love -

“Be honest,” Zayn says, hiding his grin against Liam’s throat. “This is how you plan on getting all of your clothes back, isn’t?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has supported me and provided such amazing feedback! I loved writing this fic so much and I hope you liked reading it. Let me know what you think, please (bad or good)? [tumblr](http://zainspank.tumblr.com/faq)

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think? [tumblr](http://zipplekink.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/zippIekink) if you need it!


End file.
